" Alcohol Fueled Killer" - Bahamas AI Art
©A. Derek Catalano
Alcohol Fueled Killer
In shadows cast by lamppost lights,
A predator stalks the island nights.
His weapon can be a blade or gun,
Fueled with liquid fire, the devil’s rum.
He lifts the glass with trembling hands,
A fragile man, built on sinking sands.
The amber poison, smooth and cold,
Transforms his soul, turns flesh to bold.
With every sip, the world distorts,
Morality bends, and truth retorts.
The whispers rise, the demons call,
From within the depths of his mental sprawl.
The Descent
At first, a lover’s tender kiss,
The drink promises fleeting bliss.
A numb reprieve, a gentle balm,
To quiet storms and offer calm.
But calm gives way to a simmering rage,
Unleashed from its shackled cage.
Old wounds reopen, fresh scars form,
As chaos brews a deadly storm.
The mirror mocks with fractured sight,
A fractured man who thirsts for fight.
The alcohol, a cunning liar,
Fans his fury into fire.
The Hunt Begins
Stumbling steps through streets of haze,
Eyes alight with a hunter’s gaze.
Unseen shadows cloak his spree,
Fueled by venom, savage, free.
His victims chosen by fate’s cruel toss,
An arbitrary roll, a senseless loss.
A stranger’s glance, a lover’s plea,
They all dissolve in his red fury.
Knuckles crack on fragile bone,
The night bears witness, chilled to stone.
The bottle tips, another pour,
Another life condemned to lore.
A Haunted Soul
When morning breaks through crimson skies,
And drunken fervor bleeds to cries,
The killer kneels in broken shame,
No mask to hide, no one to blame.
He scrubs the stains of his despair,
But blood runs deep—it lingers there.
A ghostly choir sings in his mind,
Of shattered dreams and ties unkind.
He knows the steps, this vicious reel,
A spinning wheel of pain and steel.
The bottle whispers, “Just one more…”
And he returns to the endless war.
Cycle of Ruin
A demon bound by liquid chains,
Through endless nights of pulsing veins.
Each victim’s face etched in his head,
Alive in guilt though they are dead.
The town tells tales of his faceless wrath,
A phantom man who walks the path.
But he’s no phantom—just a shell,
A hollow frame, a walking hell.
His punishment is self-inflicted,
A life where pain is unrestricted.
Yet still, he drinks, a killer bound,
His solace found in sorrow drowned.
A Warning Echoed
So heed this tale, its bitter brew,
Of lives destroyed, and futures too.
The alcohol may warm your veins,
But beware its grip and what remains.
For deep within that toxic glow,
A killer waits, his rage in tow.
He feeds on pain, despair, and sin—
And in the end, no one can win.
The bottle’s promise, sweet allure,
Can taint the purest heart impure.
A fragile line, a tipping scale—
One drink too far, and we all fail.
In shadows cast by lamppost lights,
A predator stalks the island nights.
His weapon can be a blade or gun,
Fueled with liquid fire, the devil’s rum.
He lifts the glass with trembling hands,
A fragile man, built on sinking sands.
The amber poison, smooth and cold,
Transforms his soul, turns flesh to bold.
With every sip, the world distorts,
Morality bends, and truth retorts.
The whispers rise, the demons call,
From within the depths of his mental sprawl.
The Descent
At first, a lover’s tender kiss,
The drink promises fleeting bliss.
A numb reprieve, a gentle balm,
To quiet storms and offer calm.
But calm gives way to a simmering rage,
Unleashed from its shackled cage.
Old wounds reopen, fresh scars form,
As chaos brews a deadly storm.
The mirror mocks with fractured sight,
A fractured man who thirsts for fight.
The alcohol, a cunning liar,
Fans his fury into fire.
The Hunt Begins
Stumbling steps through streets of haze,
Eyes alight with a hunter’s gaze.
Unseen shadows cloak his spree,
Fueled by venom, savage, free.
His victims chosen by fate’s cruel toss,
An arbitrary roll, a senseless loss.
A stranger’s glance, a lover’s plea,
They all dissolve in his red fury.
Knuckles crack on fragile bone,
The night bears witness, chilled to stone.
The bottle tips, another pour,
Another life condemned to lore.
A Haunted Soul
When morning breaks through crimson skies,
And drunken fervor bleeds to cries,
The killer kneels in broken shame,
No mask to hide, no one to blame.
He scrubs the stains of his despair,
But blood runs deep—it lingers there.
A ghostly choir sings in his mind,
Of shattered dreams and ties unkind.
He knows the steps, this vicious reel,
A spinning wheel of pain and steel.
The bottle whispers, “Just one more…”
And he returns to the endless war.
Cycle of Ruin
A demon bound by liquid chains,
Through endless nights of pulsing veins.
Each victim’s face etched in his head,
Alive in guilt though they are dead.
The town tells tales of his faceless wrath,
A phantom man who walks the path.
But he’s no phantom—just a shell,
A hollow frame, a walking hell.
His punishment is self-inflicted,
A life where pain is unrestricted.
Yet still, he drinks, a killer bound,
His solace found in sorrow drowned.
A Warning Echoed
So heed this tale, its bitter brew,
Of lives destroyed, and futures too.
The alcohol may warm your veins,
But beware its grip and what remains.
For deep within that toxic glow,
A killer waits, his rage in tow.
He feeds on pain, despair, and sin—
And in the end, no one can win.
The bottle’s promise, sweet allure,
Can taint the purest heart impure.
A fragile line, a tipping scale—
One drink too far, and we all fail.
©A. Derek Catalano/ChatGPT
Related article: Alcohol Use and Its Connection to Violence and Homicide
Related article: Alcohol, Drugs, and Their Association with Mental Illness and Crime
Related link: Alcohol-Related Crimes
Related link: Why Alcohol Is The Deadliest Drug
