john wayne gacy jr

his father was a drinker
and his mother cried in bed
folding John Wayne's t-shirts
when the swingset hit his head

the neighbors, they adored him
for his humor and his conversation
look underneath the house there
find the few living things, rotting fast
in their sleep all were dead

twenty-seven people, even more
they were boys, with their cars
summer jobs
oh my god
are you one of them?

he dressed up like a clown for them
with his face paint white and red
and on his best behavior
in a dark room on the bed he kissed them all

he'd kill ten thousand people
with a slight of his hand
running far, running fast
to the dead

he took off all their clothes for them
he put a cloth on their lips
quiet hands, quiet kiss
on the mouth

and on my best behavior
i am really just like him
look beneath the floor boards
for the secrets i have hid

john wayne gacy jr.
sufjan stevens

it's a creepy song, filled with so much sadness, and it's been on my mind.

you think it's so baffling, so impossible, how someone could do such evil. how do you go from a sweet little boy to a serial killer? how can he have changed so much?

but we all have seen it, in milder terms - the change in someone that happens so gradually you barely recognize it until there's a moment, down the road, when that person says or does something and it jars with who that person was to you and it becomes profoundly clear - you realize, with a pang, that person is gone. they chose, a little bit at a time, to become someone else. and you cannot bring them back.