Serial Killer Poem by Nikhil Parekh

The car shot at high speeds through deserted lanes,
trampling scraps of paper, bushy outgrowths of foliage,
zipping at speeds escalating by the minute,
leaving truck loads of plain golden dust behind.

his hands were smudged with cold blood,
sweatshirt of rich denim clung to his waist,
tinted strips of glass shielded his savage eyes,
stubby fingers poked from tightly stitched leather gloves,
bulging muscle almost tore his shirt sleeve,
streaks of sun tan blended perfect with ruddy complexion,
long strands of auburn hair looked gruesomely brutal,
thick chains of pure gold hung from short neck bone,
uncut fingernails contained crusts of human blood,
a gleaming gun barrel projected from trouser pocket,
heavy perspiration trickled down his arms and cheek,
wailing horns of the police now reached him loud and stringent,
the cops were hot on his trail since decades,
although he eluded them on more occasions than once.

this time the scenario looked dismally distraught,
he knew had few breaths now to breathe,
reminiscences of past misdeeds flooded his mind,
those days of ruling as a professional killer had now faded into oblivion,
the car swerved violently,
came to an abrupt halt striking against heavy tree lumber,
buckets of blood leaked from mutilated parts of his body,
infinite bones of his body lay crushed beneath the burning debris,
slender windpipe of breath now split in halves,
the once saluted form lay completely lifeless,
as a volley of bullets erupted from compact pistol apertures,
aimed at random to assassinate all traces of the serial killer.