the jazz hand strangler

somewhere along the evolutionary spectrum
some wires were crossed &
when s/he realized their utter disgust for humanity
coupled with an urge for blood & guts
(all the things that whip up a snazzy b-horror film),
alas,
it was too late---
it was too late because the momma figure
she took him/her to dance lessons,
after all s/he wanted them for so long &
wouldn’t you know it,
s/he was a natural!

so come those long nights in the teenage years
when the hormones ran wild &
the moon being full,
s/he threw on something of a cat-burglar kind of outfit
to ramble throughout the darkness
with the hands up behind said victim of prey
ready to strangle the life of them
away.

but in one of life’s little bits of irony
the woulda’ been
coulda’ been
shoulda’ been strangler’s hands,
could not stop moving &
like it was “west side story” or perhaps
the worse form of arthritis had already set in,
s/he just twitched all around until said
victim (who really wasn’t) just turned quickly
asking what the jazz hand strangler was doing
while simultaneously laughing her/him to
shame.

after several attempts at gaining some kind of
respect
within the serial killer community,
the jazz hand strangler saw the writing on the wall &
hung up their hands (so to speak),
walking back to a rehearsal for some off off off
broadway,
with their tail between their legs.