The Entomologist

A twisted metamorphosis was undergone. Something right and real went in the cocoon
And a worm came out.

He keeps them all in little glass jars
In stagnant lakes of formaldehyde
Or pinned proudly to wooden frames
Neat print spelling their strange names
But many are alive, more delightful in motion
(Scolopendra gigantea, my deadly lady)
Ever so slightly off, these angles
Asymmetrical and nonsensical
Grasping details he didn't notice before
But awareness only blooms in the basement
(something's not right here)
Microscopes and blinding beams
Slender hands prod, a playful grin gleams
Chloroform and miniature surgeries
Finding the sublime behind compound eyes
Others shiver, avoid their touch
But his attention is glued to
Sleek shells and bristling legs and wings like
Dirty stained glass windows
Color bleached by a downpour that never ends
(something's gone wrong inside me)
He'll take them apart tenderly
Like the patients in his office
(don't go into the monster's den)
Whose psychosis is as old and ugly
As anything in the doctor's collection
Oh, yes, they'll squirm and stray
They'll scream and try to crawl away
But in the end he'll have what he came for
(this isn't what I'm here for)
Too many legs, mandibles like twin vices
Armor red and regal like a Chinese army
She is the rejected bride
(my Lilith, gorgeous but damned)
The missing piece of a demented riddle
And her venomous clenching embrace
Will steal away all your memories
Replacing them with dark fantasies
(will you make me whole again?)
A dead man studies dead things
While he notes your form and function
You feel the stroking of a thousand curious feelers
(I just want to taste your fear)
The kissing of a thousand eager mouths
And know you are trapped
A faded soul pinned and stretched out
Captured and deeply known
(I just want to fix you)
Primal reprisal fears
Are brought into the open and tested
Tickled into spilling all your secrets
Unending hallways and futile chases
A bogeyman humming a teasing tune
As this figure beyond all reason bursts
From the shaded hospital room
Inches away, right behind you
(this is part of your therapy)
Like prehistoric curiosities in amber tombs
Like larvae seething in cold wombs
A twisted metamorphosis was undergone
Something right and real went in the cocoon
And a worm came out

The End

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