the serial killer speeks

and he listens to Debussy,

and red handle in the stairwell,  a knife to the back  and a single sigh.

the moon is bright tonight,

and the shoveled snow
makes a puddle in the driveway
which seaps to town.


3 nickles on the windowsill, half a call to your shadow.

''I want
to dance''

She dances and it's beautiful.

if only there were more than 5 minutes to the day and 5 seconds to contemplate the buzz in the air.

sweet dreams,
  I don't need
to say more        , your smile says it all