Just putting this back on top
Pacing, pacing, thread-barren carpeted hall,
passing by each moment – that lurid chamber stall.
Each eve at strike of three, there finds me,
reliving the glory of her inviting screams.
Lucky was I, grateful for always thought,
that nary soul should miss her, as destiny wrought –
Her screams locked away forever now,
no one ever knowing why or how.
Save for me, the master of her misery,
her self now lost to history,
and yet I continue on.
But luck is only as luck can be,
ever rarely – does it fairly – find me.
So never again – might I dissect a friend,
gleefully enjoying frightened eyes when –
removing skin and parts within,
writhing great pleasure to the very end.
Unless I can find another soul;
lonely, less connected, un-whole.
Hark, is that my doorbell rung?
Another victim eagerly sung?
“Trick or Treat! Trick or Treat,”
View original post 31 more words