Chasing the thrill

I dig deep

Into the creased pages

Of my diary

Thoughts pouring out,

My escape,

I think,

As my dark side

Vents itself out

Mocking at the niceness

I portray to the world.

I write of serial killing,

It excites me,

The thought of

Men under my control

Tied against the scuffed wall

In the crumbled room

With a window

Not protected from dust and rust.

I love the spark that appears

in my victim's eyes,

As they plan a escape from the window,

And how quickly it dampens,

When they realize they can't.

I make sure the window escape is impossible.

My plan is always perfect.

I love showing them

Moments of their life

Before their death

Their loved ones

Their memories

Till each and every particle of their body

Is squirming

Begging me to let go.

That's when I put my fingers

On their head

Shaped like a gun

Move closer

To their ears

And whisper

BANG BANG.

The terror thrills me.

The terror that keeps on increasing

With the ticking of the clock

Knowing their time has arrived.

The wide eyed fear in their eyes

Turns me on

But alas they have got to be killed,

It can never last forever.

For I have other targets in store

And more scenes of blood and gore.