04-02-2020, 10:54 AM
(This post was last modified: 04-02-2020, 12:30 PM by Quixilated.)
Spider
(Or: why I don’t like falling asleep)
She is a spider with too many eyes.
I can feel her watching from behind the darkness,
her stare like needles pin-pricking my skin.
With her spindle-legs she swiftly weaves
thousands of tiny webs until they blot out the sky,
until only the tiniest points of light wink through the cracks.
She is a patient huntress. She waits in perfect silence,
watching her prey writhe and struggle.
When all is still she creeps noiselessly up from behind
to sink her venom deep into my weary flesh
and feast on fitful dreams until morning light.
(Or: why I don’t like falling asleep)
She is a spider with too many eyes.
I can feel her watching from behind the darkness,
her stare like needles pin-pricking my skin.
With her spindle-legs she swiftly weaves
thousands of tiny webs until they blot out the sky,
until only the tiniest points of light wink through the cracks.
She is a patient huntress. She waits in perfect silence,
watching her prey writhe and struggle.
When all is still she creeps noiselessly up from behind
to sink her venom deep into my weary flesh
and feast on fitful dreams until morning light.
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara