Killing Time Sipping Bloodied Iced Tea
When the skies are slipping behind clouds,
…. Late in the afternoon,
Shying away as they do from the maddening crowds,
… and eagerly teasing the awaiting moon,
I like nothing better than sitting on the swing,
…. Out the back on the ol’ tree in the yard,
Toing, froing, and swaying on the box springs!
Pondering where next l might leave my calling card?
Sitting here sipping sweetly from my bloodied iced tea,
…. And supping the nibble bits mixed with mint,
Nothing quite beats bits of human potpourri,
… if you understand my drifted hint!
I am not quite sure where and when it all began,
…. Or maybe l should really say…
When l became the Maniacal Bogeyman?
Am guessing, somewhere back in my yesterdays!
I took to murdering like a duck to water,
…. I am a natural born killer see,
Love nothing better than pointless slaughter,
In some ways it’s like my personal idiosyncrasy!
I think, and especially in today’s ambivalent society,
… That one needs to take a certain pride,
More so and importantly with regards to notoriety,
So l take my time, when skinning the hides!
Have got me quite the stash now in the freezer,
A nice’n’ripe frozen block of chopped up bits,
That are great little appetite pleasers …
…. And adds some maturity to the evening juiced Spritz!
© Rory Matier 2020
