I heard him call you a
clean cut kid
paying no account to those
things you did
I saw the blood stains when you
washed your sheets
I see you size up every
girl you meet
I got a phone call from your
Ma today
she just don’t understand those
tunes you play
And we don’t know where you
go at night
but we never tracked you
down, in spite.
seems like whenever that
news comes on
they got a longer list of
folks that’s gone
While I havn’t proved
anything true
I got a feeling that
the problem’s you
I know you never say the
things you mean
but I bet you make your
cuts real clean
Don’t you?
the sieve and the sand 
love the killer poems
Aw, shucks.
Ha. *Devious chuckle* great write.
seriously creepily freaky (can something be creepily freaky? i submit it can), only because you write the character so well it calls your poetic character in to question.
You can’t prove a damn thing.
Been watching Dexter much? Well, I have. And I liked this one. I can imagine it recited by a aviator sunglassed cop with a drawl.