Serial Killer

Serial killer 

Head cocked, trigger loaded, shell casings scatter beneath me,

Decorating the sidewalk, they are the autumn leaves that never came this year.

My fingers, bleached to the bone, powdered with residue, 

bent like hunched spines aching with labor,

Hold the pistol heavy with ammunition, the weapon that defied god.

My body, pickled with satisfaction, twitching to the sound of hers hitting the ground,

How it dropped like cement,

The bullets, how they tore through her throat, she only spoke of lies anyways.

How her eyes rolled back to the skull,

Her eyelids, I will place coins on them, count on the journey from here to there, 

I pray it will be a safe one, 

But at the same time kinda don’t, 

I took pleasure in the act, devouring the mouth that let out those jamnant screams, the demonic women who visits me on the darkest of days,

I will watch her as she sinks into the ground, 

And I will do it again, 

And  again, 

And again.