She saunters down the dark, dreary lane.

If I could only give her a taste of my pain.

No nagging conscience to try to avoid.

You may call me crazy.  A case for Freud.

Having a need to quench my desire

Behind cold eyes all my senses on fire.

A sharp razor eased from my coat pocket.

My body aches, nobody to stop it.

My hand is steady I have no remorse.  

She will be just another bride corpse.

Hearing the heels of her hip boots clack,

My pace surges as I close the gap.

Almost upon her,  her pulse quickens.

Smell of sex and sweet perfume thickens.

Hearing soft gasps I am getting my kicks.

She is unaware I am now on her six.

My hand over her mouth she then cries.

Opened up those big, luscious brown thighs.

I laughingly grin and find wetness delight.

Her eyes look at me with horror and fright.

Begin to cut off a nipple on her left breast.

My blade carves a hole in her soft flesh.

Red fluid running down her she bleeds.

Premature ejaculation my dripping seeds.

She jerked free allowing a shrilling scream.

The coppers in blue arrive on the scene.

Police shouting and guns cocking the sound.

They tackle me and cuff me on the ground.

The jury said guilty on all twelve counts.

No one will ever know the total amount.

Could not hack being the prison whore bitch.

Death at my own hand.  No soul, just black pitch.