Psychosis I’m on my psycho shit
Embracing Bates
Motel open for business June eighth
I must bloodlust sate
Deinsaning by exsanguination
First ten guests will be slain complimentarily
I leave this off the leaflet.
Even in high summer, trees here leafless
Sun seen in glimpses fleeting
I hear bleating, sheep, see them bleeding on golden fleeces
I keep pictures of them, pieces of lace from dress hems
Safe in my secret space, where my mother is displayed
Her tea this instant awaiting, notepad I away
I am the wolf heard baying at the pale one
In a lace girdle my corpsemother wore
Painting shower curtains with essence.
Afterwards wallowing gore’s quotient, like a new ocean
Crawling through their letted blood as a rite
All in white like a bride, leeching
Muttering whores as I bleach streaked floors, wearing soiled drawers
In whispers oneiric hearing flashes, word for death in Irish fixes
In the puce craw that lords my doings, I am truant to the foyer bell
Because I am stuffing a corpse-bulging burlap into the back well
You would be well to be away from here, lady
I do not say
Proffering keys from a ring, clinking into her palm, number sixteen
Lead the way.
H.H. Holmes on opening night
Infernalite in sight of citywhites
If you could see those plans
If you could clasp those hands
Freezing cold as a whale’s fluke
You would, having puked, rebuke
This as wasted genius
A mind otherwise engineering twisted heinous
Was I made so or raised, were these horrors fated
Knowing not whether I suffer dearth or surfeit of Venus
Which of these things sculpted my demon
Let me demean so, without feeling
A sky you see, blue as a sea and seized with ceaselessness
I see a ceiling utterly deplorable, imp-flown dome imprisoning.
Alchemisland 
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