Song of Satan

Reads: 80  | Likes: 3  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 4

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Erotic Horror  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

A poem from the p.o.v of a serial killer.

 

 

 

It started with a magnifying glass 

Sunny summer days 

Spent  lying in the grass 

Away from the prying eyes of mother 

My first time 

The joy I felt 

As they squirmed in agony 

I didn't realize 

These weren't things all children enjoy 

I was an animal lover 

( But not in the conventional way) 

The fish 

They made no sounds 

As they slowly suffocated 

Only opening and closing their mouths. 

The kitten 

They never found 

It tickled me with delight 

As he fought against the full weight of my body ( cats don't like water) 

He put up a good fight 

Thrashing and clawing 

He saw me 

Pull the stuff rotting body 

From my knapsack throwing it into the woods 

He crept up on me, 

Finally a boy I could relate to, 

He told me of a goat he had seen on his way home from school 

We made a plan 

Blood splattering on our hairless nude bodies 

We couldn't stain our clothes 

We laughed as we strung his head up 

Letting his blood trickle down on us 

He smiled, I wanted to kiss him 

I had enjoyed this alone 

But seeing him cloaked in that dark stickiness 

Awakened something in me 

We were fast friends, that summer 

Now I haven't seen him in years 

I still smile when I think of our sacrifice, 

But I've grown up, 

Weekends spent settling on the perfect victim 

Prowling the south side of town 

Nobody ever notices when a prostitute goes missing 

They quench in a pinch 

The occasional drifter or vagabond 

But the real fun happens

With the ones I can take my time with 

The ones in the cellar 

Where nobody can hear their screams but me and my tape recorder, 

Recordings help me sleep at night, among other things 

The fear, the scent of it, 

Cumming as they beg for their lives 

Once you break them they aren't as fun to play with. 

But the memories entertain me for years it's not that bad.

I get rid of them once they start to reek 

I used to keep trophies, now it's too risky 

You never know the secrets people keep

 

I see that goat from time to time 

He joins me in my dreams 

We laugh and sing together

 

 

 


Submitted: August 07, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Louise Prichard. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:

Comments

DampKitten

Disturbing, to say the least.
That said, I love the documentaries on serial killers. Not sure why I find that so fascinating. It's also curious to note that a lot of us find cruelty to animals less palatable than murdering a human.

Sun, August 8th, 2021 3:08pm

hjfurl

Hiya Louise,
Damp Kitten has, as usual, summed up your dark work of art more thoroughly and extensively than I ever could with lots of hints and truths. All I can add is: for all its horrific treatment of animals, I found your poem sensational - and a step-change from your first piece. Well Done You!

Mon, August 9th, 2021 11:17am

Author
Reply

Thanks so much I really appreciate the feedback. I have no idea if my poems are good or not.

Mon, August 9th, 2021 8:31am

Tristan Biggs

Like I said before - Dark! Dark! Dark! Hitchcock or King would have really got a thrill out of this!!

Wed, August 11th, 2021 11:00pm

Author
Reply

Oh wow thanks so much Tristan! Means a lot!

Wed, August 11th, 2021 4:37pm

VanillaEssence

Are you the reincarnation of A. Hitler.
I would have a lot of fun sticking three unlubricated stiff fingers up your brown asshole and twisting them with your face buried in a bucket of sand.
Karma comes to all those who wait long enough.

Fri, August 20th, 2021 4:11am

Author
Reply

Lol. It's fictional but thanks. Spare me the virtue signaling.

Fri, August 20th, 2021 6:29am

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