The spider webs in your eyes
catch more than the morning dew,
spitting the freshly peeled sunlight
down your giggling chin.
They swallow my words
like blender blades on overdrive,
slicing my tongue as you blink,
stuttering like typewriters
making love in the afternoon,
spilling restless letters on the floor.

I drown in those murky waters,
as ink bubbles splatter across my face,
pen scratches and nervous fingernails
squeezing my lungs like lemons,
to quench your thirst for silent screams,
carefully peeling back the layers of
your eyelids scrambling hopelessly
against the toothpicks dipped in liquid obsidian,
extracting the moldy memories that
infect the fresh folds of tissue,
dripping from the anticipation
of melted needles piercing your pupils,
baiting me to swallow your silvery hook,
diving deeper into your cluttered cavities,
dragging us further into your soul
than you are willing to go.