Another poem from the mind of a serial killer and this is as far as I have gotten. ©2010
Wanting to scream at the frustration of life
I watch you with eyes of fire
Wanting to get you into my bed
Cherishing your screams of fear.
I’m hungry for power
To prove my worth and my skill
I have my reasons for turning to murder
But society will never understand.
Cast out of society for being different
Bullied all my life
Abused as a child by my prostitute crack addict mother
Who sold me as a child for her drug addiction.
I can smell the taste of fear in the air
The stormy winds swirl through the trees
Making the branches shake
Tonight is the night that I’ll have you.
The clicking of heels on the asphalt alerts me to your presence
Hiding in the shadows I wait for the right moment
Then pounce on you and wrap my arm around your throat
Choking the breath out of you.
Our room is all set up
In the flea bag hotel on the outskirts of town
No one is going to miss a lowly whore
No one will come looking for your body.
“Hush. It will all be over soon.” I say in your ear
My breath is a whisper on the wind
Dragging you back to my car
Driving back to the hotel.
The candles are lit and the bed is covered in roses
The silk undergarments lie on the bed
I lock the door and shove you on the bed
Watching you as you undress for me.
I lick my lips and make you go down on me
Laughing at the fear in your eyes
Why are you even complaining?
You do this every night, sometimes with fifteen guys a night.
Throw you against the wall
I hear your bones crack on the impact
Lying in a crumpled heap I drag you to the bed
Beginning the penetration that will last for hours.
Barely awake and drugged up on heroin
You can’t even fight me because your so high
But I don’t need drugs or booze to get wasted
Because murder and rape are my high.
I take a butcher knife and shove it through your heart
Over and over until you collapse
I hop in the shower and let the water run over my body
Then I go and check out leaving your corpse to rot.