The Collector, Part 1: Muse - Light This City

Lying here

Inside a song

It seems

Inside every song I’ve ever read

Written not by a bloodthirsty man

But a shock-hungry trend

Rags of flesh discarded on the ground

Eyes and ears hastily carved from heads

While a frustrated surgeon searched for something he feared he’d never find

The flies have long since settled on their feast

Breeding maggots in the eyesockets of the deceased

The walls and floor undulate under tiny beasts

Amidst the chaos and all the unclean a body lay cold

Yet cared for

Stitched up

Yet pristine

A bedside jar held entrails waiting to be fit inside her empty shell

She rested

Queenlike

In this fragrant hell

Her arms smooth and white

Sewn to hands missing fingers

My gaze trembled up her delicate neck

And I noticed her mouth was opened wide

Her pale hair flowed down to the floor

Brushed and clean

And next to several organs in glass

Floated two large blue eyes

Footsteps trampled down stairs

He was dragging another lucky bride

I balled my fists

Flexed my legs

And cursed my restraints

A bad taste left in my mouth from biting through tape

Trying to build the perfect woman I see

How very creative

A love you can customize

How many donors did you volunteer

Now flayed

Displayed

And forgotten in dark corners if not for the stench they emanate

Am I joining the ranks

What part of my body will you attach to hers