Dear Mr. Bateman,
A few questions, if I may.
I have a couple dark interests,
That out loud, I do not say.
How does it feel inside,
To have someone in your grasp?
Total control through pain,
Do you prefer a scream or a gasp?
Tell me, Mr. Bateman,
How long do you make it last?
Do you fantasize about the future,
Or fondly recall the past?
Do you wish someone would catch you,
On your throne of bloody bones?
Do you strive to be feared? Punished?
Or just to shock the mindless drones?
Put down the chainsaw, Mr. Bateman.
Tell me, how do they taste?
What’s the last thing you say to them?
What part of them do you let go to waste?
What do you mean, you are simply not there?
Do you not feel for what you do?
How do you steal the pleasure,
For the sadist part of you?
Dear, Mr. Bateman.
Thank you for your time.
You helped shape the inside,
Of my own twisted mind.