A young man's mind turns murdersome
On a night this
When the weight of hate is burdensome
And too great to resist
With the night time's anonymity
And the stark certainty of death
The streets are filled with vengeance
And the remains of those he left
In the porch light's feeble shadow
“Who calls so late at night?”
The fly-screen door
hangs no more
as his cold hands closed so tight
With a vice-like grip
till her quivering lips
turned blue in this light
and he breathed her breath
and tore her dress
in a dance of death's delight
Special thanks to JAF for transcribing and translating this piece.
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