Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2018
My brain is a graveyard
Where cobwebs collect
Through gyri and sulci
The harvestmen tread

The widows float down
Painted black and red
Armed with venom
And needle and thread

They sing as they spin
A chanty of doubt
Stuffing my skull
Til ghosts leak out

And when they have
All had their say
And my spine grows centipede legs
And crawls away

I sink sink sink
Into the ground
And even the arachnids
Cannot draw me out.
Darcy
Written by
Darcy  18/F
(18/F)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems