Murder.

The burning desire
to harm, maim,
inflict pain…
It’s uncontrollable.
I look at you
and your perfectly
combed hair and think
of the things
I can possibly do
to torment you.
Your flat ironed shirt,
neatly tucked
beneath your
costly pretentious
belt…
It gives me the
urge to put
that real leather
around your neck
and wait to hear
it snap while
I stare and look at the life
go out from your eyes.
Oh, the wonders
of murder!
The joyous pleasure
it conveys
to an ill-driven mind!
If you can fumble
through the haywire
of my mind.
You will see my need
to drink all the
misery in the world
and thrust it
deep into your
throat right before
I slit them open
and watch you
profusely bleed.

MR@2016

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