The Collectors

I close my eyes when those ghosts come at me
With beautiful serrated smiles
They say they come to claim what’s rightfully theirs
Or else to another realm I’ll be exiled
I don’t want to be afraid of their tentacle embraces
Or the faces of terror I see as if I was a child

Their visages distorted, unhallowed and contorted
An alluring flow of aromatic decay
Summoning me as those debts have to be repaid
I’m unable to appeal to their kindness or grace
My soul sold for the mere pleasure of it all
In shame and horror I hide my face

Their voices echo through the recess of my memory
An angst of persecution in their speech
I can feel their judging eyes like thorns in my pupils
No matter how far I run, I can feel their reach
Upon my ruins they’ll claim their victory
Closing in on me and my body siege

Their presence omnipresent and potent in all domains
I must answer the call to responsibility
Face those demons with broken and brittle means
And crawl through mud with all my ability
Until they’ve feasted and are fully satisfied
So that one day I may have tranquility

I am paying my dues for my youthful days left behind
I am coming to terms with each specter
I wrestle them one by one with wit and jocularity
I am truthful as some of them are like lie detectors
And so when I talk with them we have at it
When I take calls from those bill collectors