Ed Shacklee: The Practised Sneer

Acerbic kin to Smirks, it likes to lurk within crevasses.
Thick as glue, as slick as snot, and slower than molasses,
its blood, if spilt, congeals, the smell evoking sewer gases.

The lily-livered Sneer appears to fear what it harasses –
acidic and abominable, more asinine than asses,
far baser than the basilisk its livid gaze surpasses,

it thrives on bile derived from private grudges it amasses.
Its air connoting doting parents from the upper classes,
its brittle smile seems genuine when viewed without your glasses.