The collector is aware of everything they do, it is their aim to infatuate you. Their eyes move over you, slowly bringing you into their harmonic tune. They want you to play, to chase your tongue over their mountains and their caves.
They want you to push them into the sea. Your mouth filled with the endless hydration of everything you want to be, tied and gagged to their infinity.
Do you want more?
I am full.
I can not be bewitched.
I am a collector of things that do not exist.
I like their skin, their giggles remind me of summer days, when all I could do was play and fall into dunes made of an essence that only they can create.
I touch them once more, before I go.
The collector takes me home.
I leave my shedded skin over their clothes and wait for them to realize that I am a tomb full of ghosts, they can not collect. They take my skin and place it on a shelf.
It fades away before they remember my smell.
Audio Slut 
5 replies on “The Collector. ”
They do?
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Maybe they don’t.
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Your poem is incredible. I suppose I should have said that. I like the ether with the adamant it is. Maybe adamant isn’t the right word. I don’t know why my first reaction is to argue with it. The poem (not you) but I like that it made me sit and wonder about the collector’s motivation. It became all about the collector and the “object” of the collector’s passion was lost but also freed. A deeply moving feeling… poem.
I’m not going to be blogging for a while. But I love your writing. You are stellar.
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I also wonder. I like the question, it makes me look beyond the feeling. I am so happy that you resonate with my work.
I am so many things and sometimes ‘ the collector’ is so busy trying to collect what they can see that they miss the importance. So many people forget that beauty is revealed. Its changing and constant and thus you must be present.
Your engagement with my work means a lot . You will be missed.
I have started podcasting and you can find it here….https://open.spotify.com/show/4o1OjSPflsd09s7OwQYRMr
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True. When I’m hiking I notice a lot of people mountain biking or running to get their exercise and they miss the entirety of nature. They miss everything small and quiet… and present. Your poem is beautiful. As are you. Thank you for the link. I will most definitely check it out.
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