His Sweetest Murder

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My satisfaction – my darkest urge

All-consuming, a poisonous surge

Of passion and blood from sinful souls

Fear dripping down through flesh burning holes

I grin behind my surgical mask

Gloating to do my beloved task

I move slowly, eyeing my specimen

Picturing his abdomen slit open

My victim, he cowers under my stare

He trembles; seizures strike his body, bare

Step, step, step—at last, he breaks, thrashing

Screaming, wriggling like a madman he is, I laugh, how provoking!

Teasing, I circle him, grinding my knives

I say, "Perhaps a proper time to count your wives?"

A sweat trickles, he whimpers—a malicious chuckle escapes me

As I bask in the sounds of his agony

Tick-tock, time's running, I count backwards and begin

Starting from his chin, I run the blade's edge against his skin

Drip, drip, drip, goes his blood, staining the marbled floor

I hum in morbid madness, but wait! There's more...

            Crack, crack, crack—the droning sound of his limbs; satisfyingly sweet

             I wipe my brows, admiring the horrid heap at my feet

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