Coming on strong

That evil, serial-killing SOB is on the streets again, sucking the life out of his victims with drinking straws made of their own rolled-up performance reviews.  Once he drains his victims dry to the bones, he burns their remains and snorts their ashes through their rolled-up paystubs. 


Save for an unnoticeable drop of sweat or blood here, a wayward ash there, he works tidily enough to be the only evidence.  And he keeps himself well hid in a genius way, by being in front of our noses and on our lips, where we’re least likely to look.


If he had a psych profile, it’d be unlike any other.  There’d be no sordid past—no parental abuse, no record of abusing animals or other kids, no connection to pornography.  At the core of his existence, there’d be nothing desiring being stopped, being found out in the long run.  At his core there’s only evil.


And time’s on his side.  He bides it, skulks ‘round the shadows of minds ‘til they break down, become weak and careless, get crazy, slip up.  And now I feel him on my case, on the spiral staircase of my mind.  I feel him working me, but I’ve got to keep cool.  My one defense is in knowing his ways, the pattern of the evil bastard, Deadline.



No more speed, I’m almost there

Gotta keep cool now, gotta take care

Last car to pass, here I go

And the line of cars drove down real slow


And the radio played that forgotten song

Brenda Lee’s “Coming on Strong”

And the newsman sang his same song

One more radar lover’s gone


Golden Earring 


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