and after all this time
here i am wasting time again.
it's easier this way, me and my blistered fingertips,
squirming in the way that i do that you know when the
comfort's too much. the water's stagnant and the bugs will be out with
humidity. it bites the calluses--there's too much
scar tissue to feel it.

the feeling crawls in; house spider unnoticed. it has legs with claws and tiny hairs that scrape my skin; i take note of the brain-tingle, the alarm bells. i try to shake the feeling that

hiding something? no, this is supposed to be good. what don't i know? its a low pitched rumble this time, it started in the back of my head and my knees and not the top of my head like when love goes wrong or my toes when the blow is coming from the back. the spider tells me something's wrong. its voice is too soft to hear.

i ignore the gut-rumble and indulge my fight or flight. i can't shake the feeling but i try. i can never shake the feeling but
maybe i can
dislodge it
if i just-
one more second-

my poor spider's fangs probe my shoulder;
huh. i thought her mouth was too small to hurt me.
she's close enough now to hear her whispers;
i become the venom.

i ignore my sixth sense until im hanging on her noose.