I'm Buffalo Bill.

In Clay County
The country road
West Virginia
Takes me home

As Bill skins fifth
Elk washed away
No urban myth
The papers say

Behold the skill
I'm Buffalo Bill
My suit of skin
I'm stitching still

Fresh flayed flesh
Stripped from backs
Of what I covet
Large girls, skin sacks

Sew straight seams
And chasing dreams
One day I’ll
A wicked woman be

In Lippman's lodge
My life alone
Within in the well
She shed a stone

It rubs the lotion
On its skin
Or else it gets
The hose again

In willow’s weave
Which holds it's life
The lotion lays
Won't ask it twice

It takes the scraps
And Precious taunts
Don't hurt my dog
Sweet pain will haunt

And burn you till
Your dying day
Which is but three
Short days away

Upon my flesh
Still stencilled love
Transmogrify
Death’s Head above

Would you fuck me?
I’d fuck me hard
And carve in flesh
My calling card

As Goodbye horses
Gallop by
My Jesus pose
And gown held high

Sweet nature's fruit
Held tight between
I'm a beauty queen
For silver screens

From high above
The buzzer screams
Comes sweet Clarice
To kill my dreams

This deadly game
Played in the dark
And you, Clarice
Can’t halt my art

Behind your back
The Python’s cocked
Shots stop my heart
Still deep in shock

Fragile beauty floats
In basement breeze
Will screaming stop
For sweet Clarice?

Original Dark Poetry.
Copyright © Craig Detheridge.
2015 - 2018.