Lost in the dark
tangled in silken threads,
naked and cast in pallid moonlight ~
her ageing skin she scratches and sheds.

Entombed deep, and safely within,
teetering on the cusp of reality
and the breadth of sin ~

tirelessly feeding,
her demoniac litter
from the sour milk of her breast ~
a thousand eight legged freaks
languishing in a giant skull lined nest,

relishing from her comfort,
her love and undying nourishment ~
tainted, but untainted,
encapsulated by the grip of shadows
free from any arcane judgement.

And in the thick of night,

inside your closet

and under your bed ~

they're there,
smiling with pincered teeth;

a thousand hairy abdomens
swollen with nightmares,
and intoxicated with grief.