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Linespace Sep 27
Stirring the city streets is always relaxing.
Whether I'm on foot, or in a car, I move swift and watch.
I watch the spiders pull their strings and tighten and intertwine their intricate webs
Less so focused on any prey,
And more focused on not letting their webs plummet into a tangled mess below.
I walk and watch.
I drive and watch.
The street names become background noise
As I walk with scissors
Looking for the right spiders
To cut free.
I see your networks and I know how it works
Nadia Sep 7
Orb weaver
Of the gorgeous webs
By the courtyard gate
We don't go through
That way anymore
It is all yours now

NCL September 2019
Merry Sep 17
She’s the spider on your shoulder
Holding you, cold and tight
She’s all eyes, slitted blue,
And the longest legs you’ve ever seen
With flaming locks of orange
Which burn brighter than the embers
Of bridges she’s destroyed in arson
And when she smiles, corner to wicked corner,
It’s not hallowed beeswax on her lips
Which gives them that crimson hue
She’s slow and steady wins the race
That your pounding heart
Is susceptible to losing to
Saccharine sweet with a smile to boot
She will have you licking hers
Steeped in honey, polite and courteous,
She spins you into her silken web
Not even of lies, but you fumble regardless
And then she eats you whole
suspended in the air
creations of your own kind of flight

wispy strands protect and feed you
the weary that are trapped by your game

crawling and weaving,
flightless yet flying,
ever graceful,

the spider and his web.
spiders seem like they're flying because their webs are so translucent. kind of dreamy.
Sunshine Sep 9
I trace and lace my fingers
through your webbed back
and I watch the lies spin
silky threads around and
drip down my arms till
I feel submerged in the
pool of black water and I
look up to the pin-pointed
sky but my heart sinks
heavy back into the web
that you once entrapped me
and I begin to wonder
where have you been?
when was the last time
someone truly loved you?
light the darkness
cut me down
love me never

Bring out the lights
The ones that glow orange and purple
Slip on your black and white tights
And plant some spiders
We're bringing the aesthetic
Creepy glam and full face
If there isn't a pumpkin involved
I'm not interested
Let'***** Party City
And get this started
I can be Inigo and you can be Buttercup
Or I can be Noel and you can be Sandi
We can dress up as our favourite
Spooky characters
I'll go full axe murderer
And you can be a creepy doll
We'll hit the streets
As wasted teens
They can tell us we're too old
But what do they know
Collapse back home
To watch horror movies
Stay up all night
On fright and candy
This isn't just one day
It's a two month event
So let's get real spooky
And live while we can
It's spooky season, *******.
Also yes, it is August. Do I look like I care?
Mike Aug 20
there are spiders in my hair
building nests and killing flies
there are spiders in my hair
cobwebs in my heart, and fangs in my eyes
you don't have to do this, she said
as the lights flickered dim
and the rain started to fall
you don't have to do this, she said
i know, i said -
i know.
Cyan Aug 2
The spiders in your head aren’t doing their job. They’ve eaten each others’ legs and have left you with a skull full of spider bodies that rattles when you shake it. My spiders still have their legs but are too busy constructing webs with them to do much else.

Neither of us move.

At least not forward.

You are mostly just pushed around in circles in your chair, and I mostly just spin in circles in my chair and watch the bird on my wall.

It doesn’t have a body, head, or legs, so its wings pull against nothing as it struggles towards me.

I pick it up.

I throw the bird against the wall to see if it will grow legs and walk. I throw my chair against the wall to see if it will sprout wings and fly. I throw my head against the wall to see if I can make the spiders crawl out of my ears and carry my head back to me.

I think that would be interesting.

Instead, the three all land on top of each other, stuck together into a single thing that stares at me. A creature with the wooden legs of a chair, the feathers of a magpie, and the head of my head.

I stare at my head, then back at you, and hope that my eyes don’t look as dead as yours.
icarus Jul 24
is named
for her practice:
she cannibalizes her lover to nourish her offspring.
Lives until their hatching
at which point she too is consumed for their lives.

You always thought it was beautiful that something could sacrifice so much.

When you dug yourself into the body of my father and tore apart
his entire being,
how could you know that I watched?

How could you know that when
I bit into your fingertips, calloused from toil,
I savored the flickering second of your breath?
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