Soaked red in carnage,
Shoulder pain fucks his game up,
Masked madman yells "Shit!"
Victim at hand bolts.
Masked killer throws knife, sticks wall.
Humiliation.
This deep into it,
A masked killer asks himself,
"Now, can I be killed?"
"Sure," says Voice of God.
"As long as this one flops hard."
But the money rains.
Geek show audience
Howls for gore treats tasty-yum-good,
Served safe, open palm.
Capital pressures,
Hell in the depths of franchise.
Automaton kills.
Killer stabs again.
A killer must stalk the night.
Profits just enough.
Killer's arm is tired.
He dreams of prestige picture.
But the money reigns.
-October 2019
Copyright 2019 by William D. Tucker. All rights reserved.
