The Husband - Part VX

His motel room was pitch dark,

the sound of the wind was puffing

the sink was dripping, pin… pin… pin…

disturbing his peaceful dream.

As he cracks each of his fingers nervously,

he remembers Silvia’s blood gurgling -

even though her body was stimulating,

he can’t stop thinking.

He recalls as he strangle Silvia remorselessly,

dragging her by the neck,

beating her over and over on the head.

After the struggling was over, he digs her body as deep as he can,

using his unbelievable strength that he never knew he had.

His energy drained out of him, but the murder can’t help smiling.

He had accomplished something vicious

he’s no longer a loser, a nobody.

He’ll become famous; the murder will be mention in all the newspapers,

people won’t stop talking; they’ll feel scare, always aware that he might be there.

They’ll be looking over their shoulders, when they pass in each dim alley.

All the attention will satisfy is ego, his manhood.

Before the police even lick him to the crime,

before they shoot him, he’ll flee, he’ll fight.

He’ll make his old man proud; he’ll put a smile upon his face

and finally that bastard can’t complain on anything.

He recall his mother, the jewel he cherishes – so lovely, so caring.

Always knowing what to say and what to do, looking after him like no one would.

In the other hand, his father the gambler, the drunker – the worst man as he discover,

a waste of life, a demons in disguise.

He recalls having his share of agreements, the fighting, the misfortune,

He had promised he would never let anyone make a fool of him,

taking away his security.