Fingers slip on ceramic keys

Typing yr confession note

So the Press can easily quote

In dedicated ghoulish ease

‘I have stolen a pistol to kill my beloved

And then turn it upon myself’

You may place me on the shelf

Of known killers, cursed & kindred

Whispering that you loved her

Shooting first the love and then yrself

Murderous, hateful longspur

Blinding last yrself

You will spend a wasted life in stir

Monster, madman, damn thyself

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a little archaic and old-fashioned but a new way into writing a true- crime sonnet. ABBA X 2, CD X 3.