Thieves, the ones who break into others personal space and take what doesn’t belong to them.
They have this mentality of what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine, too.
I’m talking about are those who steal out of sheer inclination to greed.
Those who just want more…
And they want to make sure you to have less.
They want to rob you of your humanity and make you feel like something less than.
Invading your privacy to drive you into an uncanny valley of emotions where you don’t feel safe in the world around you.
They’ll disguise it to their friends and family, some even trying to make it seem noble.
And they’ll continue as long as you let them.
Until you beat them down…
Make them bleed…
Break their bones…
Outright maim their bodies…
And if all of those solutions fail, you put them in the ground.
Isn’t that right Guv?
It’s not like you know someone who steals from the dead or maybe simply steals the dead.
Someone who believes that your body is theirs especially when you pass, then it’s theirs too.
You don’t know a man who’s so filled with avarice that he steals body upon body to make an army of corpses he’s mutilated.
Pilfers the last bit of humanness from the bodies that he himself has stolen for his own needs.
Robbing his victims of their final vestiges of their personal beings by turning them into unnatural stuffed dolls.
Someone who camouflages their disgusting deeds by making it out that it’s his last act of kindness, that he’s “preserving their memory”.
But in actuality, he’s a monster who is simply robbing them of the ability to rest in peace.
Gustav, you and I both know I’m talking about you.
Because it’s a dead-on description of you, a thief, a graverobber, and the reason you do what you do isn’t due to the fact you’re some benevolent villain with a heart of gold, far from it.
You do it because you want that feeling of power of superiority.
You want those who cross you to fear that in their deaths they will be in your stuffed army.
Their memories devalued to the point they’re nothing more than your plaything, a toy, a simple life-sized action figure.
And here’s the thing Guv, I’ve been the one you can’t steal.
So, you continue to try to take me down repeatedly because…
You can’t help yourself.
I am the door you can’t kick open…
The lock you can’t pick…
The vault you can’t crack…
The man you can’t kill and stuff.
I’ve beaten the shit out of you.
I’ve made you spill your blood.
Broken your bones and outright maimed you by driving a knife into your femur and still…
Still, you, to paraphrase The Cleaner, “continue to try to take things that don’t belong to you”.
And at Ring of Death, I’ll be the shotgun tripwire that finally puts your thieving ass down for good.
You’re dead son, get yourself buried.
Because after Ring of Death, Nobody, not one goddamn soul will remember the name Gustav Morgue.