A Serial Killer Contemplates The Cause

They pour scorn on modern theory;
blame my father,
his casual fractures,
the lazy swing of his barrel fist,
or further back see building blocks,
a great-grandfather's weighted belt -
his pit-sculpted drinking arm,
a distant uncle from the Isle of Wight
whose cranial abhorrance
and taste for buggery
convinced the keepers of Bethlehem.

My time is no longer worn away by toil.
The ordinary of the everyday.
Education. Education.
Kant and Camus are bedfellows,
the purity of exercise in an empty yard -

mostly I'm left alone.

In the big scheme of things I remember rain,
grey dawns, digging and dissecting worms,
(flies wings of course)
hard really to trace beginnings
when boys will be boys...

but an evenings grainy dusk,
petrol filtered into the belly of a hive,
the muffled belch of imploding space
and staggered survivors
who stung with lost hearts.

I think I came from that silence.
The emptiness after.