painting by James Ryman
Barbatos
“If I got rid of my demons, I’d lose my angels.”
--Tennessee Williams.
By day, I am nearly invisible as I bus tables and
wash dishes at Denny’s. I live in my grandmother’s
basement--a nice little apartment with it’s own
entrance. Gramm is hard of hearing, and for me
that’s a blessing.
By night, I troll the bus station, back alleys and
the gay bars. I’m a big handsome Swede, with
long blond hair & deep blue eyes--looking like
Thor and shit. Though for years my sexual
preferences were conflicted, I seem to attract
gay men, so it’s just easier to score with them.
My father used to get drunk and beat the hell out
of me, before he was stabbed & killed in a bar fight.
My mother was a crack addict, and she died when
I was 14, just after an older homosexual had given
me a ride from school, and raped me in his garden
shed. I could have stopped him, but hell, I enjoyed
the attention.
Five years ago I discovered that I preferred to have
sex with young boys who agreed to be mute and
non-responsive. I had a part-time job in a mortuary,
and I developed a real taste for necrophilia; but
most of the lover boys still made noise & moved
about.
So I made the decision to start killing them, so
that my sexual & emotional needs could be more
adequately satiated, I’m very strong, so strangling
them was the easiest & quietest solution. Soon I
became expert at cutting up their bodies in the
bath tub, and dissolving them in barrels of strong
chemicals. Gramm noticed I burned a lot of incense.
I told her I was converting to Hinduism.
One bright day, I got to staring at the neatly sliced
up portions of meat, and out of nowhere, I fired up
my oven and made a delicious roast out of buttocks.
To date I have slain 37 young men, and eaten a
dozen of them. The last seven of them as a lark, I
saved their heads in my refrigerator. As I sink deeper
into the darkness of depravity, murder, and sweet
cannibalism--I have no regrets. At some point I will
be caught, and that’s as it should be. I will probably
get 20 consecutive life sentences, and after a few
months I will be cornered in the shower room by
several men & stabbed in the eyes.
I have become a
demon--every night is like
Halloween for me.
Glenn Buttkus
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub Halloween
11 comments:
Glenn, as far as I'm concerned, this is your finest masterpiece. Really incredible commitment to the voice. I am so blown away by this outstanding poem. Wow. I hope you are pleased.
You have made the monster so real... and you have not been shy of creating some sympathy for the devil if I may say so... a damaged little boy turns damaging... chilling work and a credible voice too.
Nicely dark enough for Halloween.
Absolutely horrible! Perfect fear.
My goodness how frightening. Reminds me of Jeffrey Dalmer or Jack the Ripper. Scary.
A masterpiece indeed Glenn, brilliantly scribed.
(I didn't realise you were Swedish. ;O])
Anna :o]
That's really disturbing. Well done. The coldness is palpable.
Glenn, this is so chilling. It reminds me a little of Psycho, only this guy lives in grandmother’s basement in a nice little apartment with it’s own entrance and he preys on gay men. The frightening part is, I felt sorry for him, with his terrible childhood, even though he is truly a monster.
Bone-chilling! I'm still shivering! You embrace the perspective so well, it's scary!
Ouch! So visceral & blood curdling!!! A perfect sketch of a monster.
Holy crap! This is why I don't do monsters or scary. Marvelously done.
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