Content Warning : Do you want to continue?
This poem contains content which some readers may find disturbing.
It is unsuitable for children or anyone who is easily offended.

I am over 18 years old, I have been warned and I still want to read this poem.
I don't want to read this type of content, take me back to the previous page.

Frozen Ground Beef

If you ainít fucking or sucking
Then get the fuck outta here, honey
Understand, bitch
Society prevents my true nature
If I let it out
Theyíd put me in a cage for sure
So when you see me with a polite smile
Thatís not blood on my shirt
Thatís ketchup from Umami Burger
Yeah, I heard about that murdered girl
Itís a damn shame
Her head was in my deep-freeze
They found her torso and legs
In a shallow grave
On a vacant lot
In a rundown neighborhood
In the South Bay
The day
It was announced
I put the head in my incinerator
After I repeatedly violated it
Then I bleached all surfaces
Steam-cleaned the carpets and the furniture
And even polished the sterling silverware

I sat calmly in a folding chair
Drenched in sweat from strenuous effort
Sipping a vintage cabernet
Smoking a cigarette to keep me straight
Watching the local television station
They identified the victim from her DNA
Last seen in and around San Diego State
No evidence of foul play
Was found in her place
The police are baffled
But no oneís surprised
They arenít as sharp as scalpels
But I am
I suddenly relax
Those clowns couldnít find
A tree in a forest
Let alone any incriminating evidence

I check into a hotel for a few days
While I air out my place

Iím staring in the mirror sharpening a blade
My hair is wet and slicked back straight
I have a pore-defining mask upon my face
A cigarette smokes in the ashtray
Vodka on ice sits on the basin
Green tea is steaming on the mezzanine
As new age music streams from the TV
When Iím satisfied with its sharpness
I put the knife in its sheath
Sirens blare from the street below
The balcony window
I eat a maraschino cherry,
Sip the vodka, and take a drag
My passport and gun is in the bag
Although there is no record
Of us having known each other
I have accrued vacation days
That Iíll lose if I donít take them
So Iím heading north
Iíll fly to Seattle
Then take a rental across the border
To my fatherís farm
Where Iíll help him cut brush
Pick weeds
Water the hazel and walnut trees
Make various repairs, as needed
As mother prepares our meals
And Iíll make her laugh
With a couple of jokes I crack
Then head into town
For a couple of nights
And think about doing it
But quell the urge
By jacking off, repeatedly
When I return stateside
I check into a hotel in Reseda
Hole up, drinking bourbon
Eating meat loversí pizzas
And ordering a secession of bondage prostitutes
I donít do it, although I wanted to
And of course I was never questioned
It became a cold case

So I sit here today
With the mask on my face
Sharpening the blade
Which I use to cut the burger in half
Medium rare
I like it like that
The canvas on the easel
Is painted completely black
I sign my name
In big white lettering
Right down the middle
My picture of the city
At long last is finished

All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1 reading list entries 0
comments 0 reads 557
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
Today 1:12pm by summultima
Today 1:09pm by Ahavati
Today 1:04pm by Taurek
Today 12:54pm by JohnnyBlaze
Today 12:25pm by dustyJournals
Today 11:29am by Wh1skeySwagger