“This love is a fraud”

Another letter is sent to the man
The insides are filled with good riddle
Try solving his imminent fiddle
Of time in unidentified span

The letter leads to the dead party
Of bodies decaying on floor
Smell rotten and foul seeps through door
As recipient faces the martyr

“I was waiting for you, my dear Friend”
Says unknown face from end of the hall
Flies crawl on the stained wall
Footsteps uneven at end

“Do you like what I had prepared?
I really tried best to arrange it
Although they tried crawling to make it
Try escape as I gassed them with “nightmare”

Not sure if I really not dare
But as easy as they could not care
Of their silly whims in life of mare
That feasted on others tear

I did this for you, you see
I knew you’d enjoy the scene
My work is not greatly clean
And I know how your friends are obscene”

He walked slowly near scattered corpses
Holding bouquet of fresh gathered roses
Approaching with ease in his step
My and his eyes finally met

Heart pumped my blood as I stuttered
Trying to find words, yet muttered
Frozen with fear is my body
I wanted to be found by somebody

“Ah, you’re that much surprised I see
Don’t worry, here, this is from me”
The roses were now in my face
Mingling with smell of disgrace

I was unsure how I got here
Now the journey seem smudged as it might
It all began with allured hare
The sculpture museum at night

The person who took by surprise me
When spoke just behind my thin back
Had taken a liking to “Wharf quey”
The sculpture next to that whack

The lavish and classy dinner
The secret of fallen dark sinner
The mistake of a love life beginner
Made this situation the winner

My feet are glued to blood on the floor
His sweet smile can’t be taken any more
Bodies dead lying like a score
His true joy making this a bad lore

“I won’t take long any more
I know you wish this even more
Your feet might be sore
And you seem frozen to core

Come with, let me show you around
Let me get you fully crowned
Although the chef might have drowned
But we’ll enjoy the crying sound

You’ve said once before that the dish
Of deep fried little fish
Would suit your palate very well
So I had prepared a feast bell”

The door opens up with a push
In bath lies a drowned sullied mush
Of what once was a man
Now a disfigured mush in a can

The sound of muffled cries then appears
The young girl bound to chair and in tears
I see her in pain as we walk
But I for the fear – cannot talk

“This little fish will be dish”
He points at the girl with a leash
“I did do fulfill your fine wish”
She breaks into cold sweated twitch

My hands are holding the roses
The smell as the corpse decomposes
The mind sinks as the door closes
Then he smiles and softly proposes

I just nod
That’s my dot
Suddenly maraud
Body pierced by rod
“Your soul is mine to hoard”
His voice was never flawed


Authors Note:
Well, my take on “Crazy”…. Serial killers, the murderers of cold blood, the calm and very diligent, the educated and well mannered – they are the true blood freezing horror, if encountered anywhere in disorder. Yet I find them appealing and crafty in order… Faithful to their desired disorder.


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