Reflections of a Serial Thriller

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
heartache is but more refined version of death

Submitted: April 03, 2008

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Submitted: April 03, 2008

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Reflections of a Serial Thriller


SEE….i committed my first murder when I turned eighteen
Killing her softly, silenced voice only her heart screamed
High school was the murder scene, felt no remorse cause at time I was forced
….SEE my first victim had no chance…my weapon of choice…passionate romance
Never smooth and quick, she was a glutton for pain, BUT
Until u know the rules please don’t judge the game…SEE…blood was never shed
Instead I beckoned for tears, tongue sliced through defensive mechanisms sharp as shears, poisoned flowed from lips through ears, I erased her fears drilled in by those…foes... turned…peers … her reality distorted by ecstasy…I knew…death…was…near.
Mistaken lust for trust, it was too rushed; i killed her idea of love and every notion of… “US” I felt sick to my stomach… I had murdered… my first… woman…

SEE…I committed my second killing when I was still eighteen, this time a bit more clever in my endeavors, gorgeous smiles worn as camouflaged gear, cold emotions became my shield, and swagger my spear…SHE fought back but it was too late she was dead by the end of the first date
To her expense senses fooled her common sense which begged repentance for what was about to commence…SEE…her pleasure heightened, body remised she couldn’t resist… her fate was sealed with a bullet… shaped… kiss
I…dismembered this girl limb from lingerie, first her bra then her heart, becoming a hunter I mocked and mimicked my prey, lusting desires blazed as opened fires scorching what little self respect wasn’t left on the floor
No more I swore, but that night I…killed…my first… whore


See…now my murderous tendencies have begun to settle down, I thought I found
A treasured smile that forced my frown when viewed upside down, BUT I…was wrong
Skeletons in closets began to rot
sex used as automatic weapons sending shot after shot, causing bone fractures, torn muscle spasms, leaving shell fragments, but THESE bullets were orgasms
TEARING through flesh splitting the organ which lies underneath the left breast
Leaving nothing left but traces of death, climaxes strangle last seconds of breath
She inspected last night where I had left
My replies were lies which became cyanide injections when she cried
She’d rather commit suicide than hear another one…
SEE…I wanted to save this One
I couldn’t tell her I was out around 1
Fucking for Fun cause it was fucking fun
And she was just another one
Well…I did, and within her eyes I realized she died and deep down inside
I can’t lie not even to myself….i felt no regret
Cause for my victims I had no respect
Fleeing the crime scene faster than I change this rhyme scheme
Prayin I forget her blood curdling screams that haunted my dreams
Nightmares now constructed my private hell, I… buried my last… female

SEE…10 years have passed in a span of 10 months, full of deception
Where Rushed physical affection led to deceased connections, this is NOT a confession, but merely a reflection…
Upon… the Broken hearted or rather
The dearly departed…SEE We’ve all slaughtered
Turning the opposite sex into martyrs
I could go on and on, on my past wrongs committed with diligent vengeance, but deep down inside I try to confide within my…
False philosophy
Concealed within this soliloquy
I think we all fall into 2 categories; Either you believe Love is for Suckers, Or you’re A Sucker For Love
And the latter could NEVER be ME
SEE…I believe Cupid and The Grimm Reaper, quite possibly could be the same entity existing in two different identities…but no…
its just… me.


© Copyright 2017 Darren Wallace. All rights reserved.

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