Disturbing poems written in the mind of a serial killer fascinated by blood and death. |
WATERY WORDS The air runs cold and dark Carrying with it, a heavy scent The blood runth still and black Across the ground it flowth Into my hands it runth cold Freezing my own along it's path My heart grievth not For as I am the one with the blade I watch as it flows It's fresh scent suffocating The air within reach no longer clean My clothes are stained My hands bear are they no more Just as a river can turn to ice Must blood flow upon me For I bear no more clothes Ripped by the blade within my hand I slide the red water along Covering my bear body in red For I am in love I have yet again tasted death And this time, My lust has grown deep I must drink again Returning to thy water fall Once again writing in red But this time, I will not goeth home empty I shall goeth with thy cup of red words R E D W A T E R Y W O R D S -Jacklyn Jones WATER FALLS Let the water fall And blood take it's place Rushing and gushing Streaming and colorful My thirst is rising My hunger exceeding I can find there Where the water falls Feed me there Quench my thirst Let my throat be no longer dry But cleansed in red Let my hands be no longer bear But covered in red For the body lay still The grass maketh not a sound My mouth twists a grin I have tasted death And I liked it. -Jacklyn Jones WRITING IS DIRTY WORK The bodies are like paper Each piece clean and fresh I use my pens as weapons, my pens at the surface I lay them out With awe and care Yet you collect them Capture my hard work Stealing my art The red ink is on my hands The words are on my tongue You take my work, I must make anew The ink must show, I will write a new page, A book shall prevail The words, sticking in R E D -Jacklyn Jones HUNTING I hunt You hunt We are not very different We are not very alike I don’t hunt the smallest You only hunt for me I chase them, Lustfully driven You chase me, determined and smart You say I am a coward Yet, If I were coward how would I know How could I hunt How could I know I be not as they say How could I know I'm not mad How can I hunt and stay the hunted Not slayn or tortured But free and lively So we continue our game Our little game of tag Until one is caught May I hunt for them As you hunt for me - Jacklyn Jones NO CLEANING THE UNCLEAN I am stained with blood Stained with hatred and madness I failed, lost my sight The path twists and turns No one can undo the already done No one can change the unexcused I have no excuses I have no hope Release me of my burdens Can no man do Cleanse me Only man can wish of For you cannot clean, those unclean -Jacklyn Jones |