Shooter (Secret Window)

By R. Cary

Pounding is all I hear, a 

History of the tell-tale heart

Only forgiveness is all I seek, 

My soul resting…

No, no, no. No bad writing

As I stare out the Secret Window

Eating my corn, wearing my hat

Out the window I see

A Pet Semetary

Everyone can see it coming

Those Goddamn Trucks

Inward I search, but only

Jack Nicholas I look to be,

‘Here’s Johnny’

What a beautiful smile

Maybe my braces should come off…

No, no, no. No bad writing

If only I hadn’t lived the life

Of Rodya, my brother of 

Dostoevsky’s art

Crime and Punishment

As I grin at the Sheriff

And the girl I creep out

Shooter was his name

Psychopathy is my game,

It wasn’t me I say

As I feed on my corn

Fed and seeded from the 

Blood of my hated X-wife

And that cunt of a man

Teaching her like Ms. Pfeiffer

What really lies beneath

The brutality of a Grudge

My own perverted

Silence of the Lambs

Only to live in solitude

At the end of this 

Shuttered Island

Waiting for the next to come

A real American Psycho

But really only just like Psycho

This isn’t a story of Gone Girl

This is a story of truth

I whacked the bitch with my shovel

And feed on her through this land

Needing the pounding to end

For the pain to stop

With just one whack, my 

Tell-tale heart came to an end

End

Shooter (Secret Window)

By R. Cary

Copyright 2023