The Collector

Inspired by The Collector by L.H. Grey

Listen to Suggested Audio

Akira Yamaoka “True”

My face is painted black and blue
My body dressed with open gashes
Mind gone way too soon
And eyes cried out to baptize my own ashes

Prayed the lord, my soul to take
Special guest at my own wake
My thirst to slake but tongue in knots
And voice of reason long begotten

Rotten flesh strung out and stretched
Arrangement less than fetching
Edging ever closer to biological recession
Logic in procession
Can’t keep up with what’s inside my head
Picking up the pieces of the antique feelings I collect

Behind me drags a sprawling net
Trying to fit it all inside
Flitting thoughts of plague and swarm
Mouth of madness open wide

Choking back metallic bile
Dampening my rectitude
Camped out in the panic room
Emphatic in my exile
Yet, comfortably numb within the bunker of my mind

I swallowed it all
Stomach lining did the rest
Pinned every last insect
In the scrapbook of my guts
First cut was the deepest
The second one went deeper still
Grin and bear it said the reaper
Die inside, declare it

Everything is meaningless
Everyone in fragile state
Watch them slip away as not a single one’s worth saving
Slaves to destitution
Peeled away from ripe decay in favor of the great illusion
Grin and bear it said the reaper
Grin and like it my reply
Now bring it in for hugs as I would love to fuck your scythe until it’s blunt
No strap-on required

I swallowed it all
Every last one of the swarming dark thoughts parading their plague in the halls of my fragmented mind
Had myself a murder picnic
Made an exhibit of every last one
Par for course for a collector such as I
Like to watch them writhe beneath the third eye of my inner light

My face is painted black and white
Body dressed with token gashes
Mind a grand museum
And eyes no longer wired shut as I rise up from my ashes
Now please, do be my guest and come inside