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.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
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.
