The Murderer Poem by Justin Reamer

I approach my closet,
Open the door
And see the victim that
Lies waiting for me behind the door,
And I laugh as I look at her,
As she is screaming underneath the duct tape
I put over her mouth,
And as she struggles from the
Ropes that I have tied around her body.

I grin,
And I take out a blade
That I had been hiding in my back pocket.
I take it out,
And rub it over my fingers,
Feeling the excitement of murder
Tingling on my fingers,
Making me hungry for what is to come.

I approach my dear victim
And tell her lightly,
‘My dear, everything is going to be okay,
You just have to trust me with this one, ’
And I take out the blade,
Remove the duct tapes from her lips,
And begin to draw on her body.

Her screams are the most exciting thing
I can ever hear;
They send adrenaline through my system,
And send shivers down my spine.
It is all very exciting, very thrilling,
As I draw the most beautiful
Pictures that this beauty would ever have.

I have always been an artist,
An artist all of my life.
I loved to draw since
I was three years old.
I loved blood and guts,
Drawing war scenes and murders
And the like.
My parents were cruel to me,
Always beating me for whatever reason.
My father was a drunk,
So he beat me every time
He came home,
And my mother had a short temper,
So she would spray me with bleach
Constantly,
So that is why I have
The scars that I do.

Since my parents took no
Interest in me,
I began to experiment.
I, one day, saw my cat
Walking around,
So I picked it up
And wondered what its insides looked like,
So I began to cut it with the jaded knife I had
And studied zoology at a very early age,
Which I am proud to admit;
My teachers called me a prodigy.

After studying zoology,
I buried its carcass and cleaned my blade,
For it had been very interesting to me.
I do not know what I would have
Done otherwise.

I then began to draw things
On animals bodies,
Including my pet dog,
My pet snake,
My rabbit,
And multiple other things.
In my first relationship with a woman,
I told her I was a tattoo artist
And was horrified when she found out
How I did my tattoos,
But she looked pretty nonetheless,
Especially when
I was done with her.

I gave tattoos to many people,
And they liked it all the same.
I must admit,
Some fainted in great joy;
They never awoke.

This woman here would be another
Great project of mine,
So I was giving her the tattoo that
Would be the most beautiful on her
Wonderful skin and body.
I know it will work out well for her,
Because I can envision the beautiful scars
She will have on her corpse when I am done.
She will be my greatest masterpiece,
That I am sure,
And she will love it,
And the world will love it,
By the time I can be done.

I eventually finished drawing,
And the poor woman,
Her eyes were filled with tears,
But I comforted her,
And I told her everything would be okay,
And I caressed her,
For she was so lovely.
But she screamed as I did so,
And I pitied her because
She did not understand me,
But I embraced her and held her close.

I then smiled and told her
I would draw again,
That she would have a beautiful tattoo,
And she begged me no,
But I insisted,
Going back to my work,
And hearing the pleasure of screams in the night.