Poem: Murder Between Two Walls


To think I had all this space to myself,
I could’ve done the most awful things:
Ejaculated blood into the carpet,
Clogged the elevators with my harvest of dead,
Dismantled the limbs of the room service girl,
Hatched my desires from out of my head

But I did nothing,
I was a good boy,
I kept my murders to myself,
Smouldering passively betwixt these walls

I’ve done everything you asked,
Isn’t it time to kill yet?
I’m so hungry and famished,
Starved of love and sensation

When comes my great act of defiance –
The amoral spectacle for which I’ll ever be remembered?

No one will know, of course,
You’ll only read this if I decide not to do it,
Carry on going quietly back to my room,
With passivity to allay my murder

Be grateful the blood stays in this pen,
And never goes any further



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