"spiderwebs" poems
My eyelids seem
to be the strongest part of me.
When the rest of my body
falls
into the ocean
of blankets they
float open upon the white water
atop
the waves of sleep.
This is when you come back.
In this mattress I am a piece
of clay and I can still feel the deep indentations of where your fingers
wrapped themselves like Ivy around my hips.
Hips, that stuck out like white flags of surrender and
fell to the ground in a straight line.
I can still hear
you.
I am a broken record,
and your whispers are the only track that plays at this hour.
“You are fat”
“Look at how flat you are Emma, no boy will ever look at you.”
“You are ugly.”
These are the nights when I can
feel the spiderwebs your words wrapped around my ribs and
listen to the way my heart beats constricted
in its cage, your hand still clenched around it.
Can’t you see me bleeding?
Safety lies
beneath my eyelids but you pull them open
I can feel
your icy touch behind my eyes as I stare
coldly at the ceiling.
you demand to be heard.
Did you mean to put your words
in my pocket when you reached in to steal the sleep that was nestled there like crumpled dollar bills?
Do you realize that you stayed with me?
Can you take your stolen midnight hours back and place them on your pillowcase?
Will your eyelids close?
Or can you still hear my cries of protest as your soundtrack plays into the night?
I don't understand?
Did you think it wouldn't hurt me?
Or did you want to live forever,so you put your
fingerprints where you knew they wouldn't fade.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 11:36 PM UTC
You're like spiderwebs,
Like thick wind entangling,
Every single **** one of you I ever met
Is wrapping around my memory as I struggle.
I obsessively map out
Every time I made you smile
With a twitch of my leg,
I needlessly outline
The dances we did with
Every tug of my wrists against the silk.
As I twist deeper into your clutches
I remember when we were happy
And spinning in soulkissed sinews.
Without you I'd be free
But you're worth the OCD.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
She fell:
into my arms,
like raindrops
at my feet,
but no:
not the tiny type
that proceed the storm,
like the plump generous kind
that fall,
and let you know
that you're in the beginning and the middle of the deluge
half way in, and you can't go no farther -
type of rain.
Lighting up the night sky
of my life
with spiderwebs of purple lightning
she rolled like distant thunder,
while her waves of water
made everything brand new
again.
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 5:27 PM UTC
Dear brother
Your heart has been torn
By yet another
Whose arms like spiderwebs
Brought your heart into her mouth
And let her teeth clash into it
Dear brother
I know the feeling
Like you will find no other
But I promise you
That every final paper
Results from many rough drafts
Dear brother
I see the love oozing out of you
Waiting to be shared with another
But learn to use it on yourself first
Please
Dear brother
You are not
someone else's "Other"
You are your own
You are enough
Dear brother
I know you have given up on
Finding another
But for now now we have
Each other
And dear brother
May we both learn
To love again yet another
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 5:18 AM UTC
i
girls with guard dogs at spike-heeled feet
lips to kiss fire, still semi-sweet
ii
dirt black coffee on a fine tipped tongue
and spiderwebs only half unspun
iii
dead roses in flowercrowns and tangled thorns
and white bedsheets, handcuffs, lingerie unworn
iv
tempest springtime to summer’s rest
and flowers of lovers laid on deathbeds
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
I sat and watched a bug crawl across your skin
From your leg to your hand to your wrist,
to the scars up your arm.
Scars I’ve never noticed,
Scars that look familiar,
Scars that amount to more than mine.
And I looked to see that
My skin appeared to be held together by spiderwebs.
I felt ugly.
I felt human.
And then the sun shone brighter
and I was a million little stained glass pieces.
A million little stained glass pieces held together by spiderwebs.
I folded into myself and
tried to listen to the choir sing
But they were too far away.
I was alone.
I knew you were too.
Alone with the sunshine. Alone in our stained glass.
I just sat there in the grass,
folding and unfolding.
Letting the sun shine into me.
To be under our skin and
To see the way all our little fragments shone.
I wonder how we would look turned inside out.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
Our lives are spiderwebs.
Delicate, pure, but Empty.
Sprinkle a little water,
It glows under lights.
Reflecting its own beauty.
Spill a pail of water,
It collapses instantly,
Reaping apart, for eternity.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 12:31 AM UTC
You grab spiderwebs with your teeth
just to understand the detail
of something above you.
You only matter to you.
The Universe has more to deal with
than your problems that surround you.
So dust off your dirt you know as fear
and reform to the plastic reality,
we call life.
Sep 26, 2011
Sep 26, 2011 at 9:32 PM UTC
Neptune's core collapses
Splintered diamonds descend in stabbing fashion
Sleepy knives pass silently through the night
Casting shadows in the caliginous moon light
Stitched spiderwebs glisten across autumn's equinox
Discordant thought raptures in a Gordian knot
The symmetry of entropy plots its course
The universe resets its clock
Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 8:50 PM UTC
People in essence are spiderwebs
Each so fragile and beautiful
Yet so strong and full of purpose
Each molecule is connected by a strand of the web
Each thought intersected
Woven into another
Yet separate, unique
There are no two alike
Though many are bland
So distasteful
Never living out their full potential
Instead being destroyed by tiny things
The fears and doubts that eat away at the delicate strands
Still someway somehow the rare few so complicated
Protected so carefully by their creators
Manage to hold their true form
Even for a second in time
They capture drops of inspiration like dew
As the sunlight fades the useless webs left unprotected
It also catches hold of the glimmer of inspiration
Suddenly transformed into a shining brilliant treasure
The web can maintain these inspirations
Build them into anything they desire
Or they may allow them to simply lay in shadow
Weighing them down
Until they come crashing from their position of glory
To a simple puddle of ruin
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 1:24 PM UTC
Lines of coal take form, again and again, on this coldbound evening
as blackened fingers and wear reveal prints typically unseen.
Beautiful and unique and hurricane lightning tattooed yellowed paper.
It was untouched, like the charcoal, for ages as it sat in the corner
underneath the easel gathering dust and cobwebs.
It seems that the spiders have had a plentiful harvest this autumn,
what a shame to rid them of their feast this month.
It'll be winter soon and they're going to need it.
What creation is permissible by destruction? Any?
None?
Can I make up for it, I promise:
I'll draw them a web and weave you into it.
You and I and They: we'll all feast.
We on Art and they on flesh.
They'll never miss those material pleasures ever again.
They'll never need to build or wait or **** or eat.
We'll never need to either, not after this,
this momentous occasion of focus and dedication
when my arms and lamplit desk burn from satisfaction
and our faces grimace at the completion
of something so wonderful, on paper.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 10:44 PM UTC
birches and tastsy jerky wood. resin in the immediate shubbary.... and dust and cobwwebs growing adjacent to the jerky wood. Myraid of birds, ranging from small birch-types to crows. A lingering dominant hawk. A giant possum crossing between borders carrying unborn infants. Dusty walls with abandonded spiderwebs- insect carcassases dangling, still. Pool motors revving in every direction lets of a subtle hum that compliments the planes descending and ascending oer-head
the water is grainy yet cool and healing. the sprinklers function at midnight and sometimes on the weekend. Maintinance trucks, expensive commuter vehicals, modest vehicls, unmanned vehicles, arrowhead trucks, macdonalds trucks, safeway trucks....
the earth is still wheaty and chalky adjacent the jerky trees, the jerky trees have little hairs and appetizing off red color, the bark saddles off with grace and with a satisfying tare.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
The body
I want
exists
through the veil of blood that spiderwebs above my eyelids.
The soul
I so desire
screams out like nails on a chalkboard, across my vanes-
and alone, underneath the cupboard drawer.
The human
I loved
hides underneath my larynx
and rests so heavily upon my soul.
It is the monster under my bed
but, I am no longer five so-
I assume night lights are out of the question.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC
this night has
melted into too many
casualties trying to reach the
edge of dawn
where beaten voices
still believe in summer
dreaming about ages in the sun
w/ loaded gunning thoughts
tomorrow will never fade
painted hands broke the ground
stones reflecting off sapphire
bombs always explode
at the most random times like
when memory is sleeping..
(my memory is wide awake)
& sometimes it screams so loud that I
can remember everything
what would it be like?
just a second of silence?
maybe it's like being thrown in that bomb of
gemstone safety..
smiles for yesterday,
the future is running toward
its own shadow:
a new song in this vein..
Jul 21, 2011
Jul 21, 2011 at 10:32 AM UTC
*So many spiderwebs
each with individual suction cups
******* blood and injecting poison....
a collapse lung....
withered and black....
festering in the hot sun
kissing silver scalpels
and *********** yellow pus
into crunchy white tarp....
capsules that release toxins
into a parched mouth
spiderwebs.... make love to my arm*
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 3:03 PM UTC
Everything she writes is tagged
#DEPRESSION
You break my heart, know.
Even with these chemical
bonds holding me together,
these frail spiderwebs
weaving around ventricles,
you shatter them like a
calm breeze, playing child,
a secret told to the wrong set of ears.
The characters in (y)our plays [on words]
are the crux of (y)our matters.
We're all ancillary like stepping stones;
pity (y)our destination begs leaving
no stone unturned.
My stepping stones are tablets, though.
20mg doses of baby steps,
crossing voids like I see in (y)our eyes.
My mouth is cavernous,
my throat the steps to hell
(wide and steep and too easy to trip down).
Each night - a crusade to save me.
Each morning - a body count.
One. Good enough for me.
Each time I sign on - the body count grows.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
People live forever in Jacksonville and St. Petersburg and Tampa,
But you don't have to live forever to become a grampa.
The entrance requirements for grampahood are comparatively mild,
You only have to live until your child has a child.
From that point on you start looking both ways over your shoulder,
Because sometimes you feel thirty years younger and sometimes
thirty years older.
Now you begin to realize who it was that reached the height of
imbecility,
It was whoever said that grandparents have all the fun and none of
the responsibility.
This is the most enticing spiderwebs of a tarradiddle ever spun,
Because everybody would love to have a baby around who was no
responsibility and lots of fun,
But I can think of no one but a mooncalf or a gaby
Who would trust their own child to raise a baby.
So you have to personally superintend your grandchild from diapers
to pants and from bottle to spoon,
Because you know that your own child hasn't sense enough to come
in out of a typhoon.
You don't have to live forever to become a grampa, but if you do
want to live forever,
Don't try to be clever;
If you wish to reach the end of the trail with an uncut throat,
Don't go around saying Quote I don't mind being a grampa but I
hate being married to a gramma Unquote.
2.8k
I'm cracking up
Like rotten eggs
Like seven years
Of ****** luck
Like old mosaics
Losing tiles
Spiderwebs
Across my windshield
Sending thoughts
Into the ether
Each one taking
Part of me
I'm cracking up
Like cheap ceramics
Broken, scrapped,
And then replaced.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
Such a slow day, time ticks by in tempo
Provide a way to reach the sun, and
It will be taken by men.
Don't look at me that way,
Even I have a weakness.
Rendered useless by my own happiness
Wisps of silky steel wrap 'round mine eyes
Eke a living out of thin air
Before your death is upon on us both
Such a fast day, time resumes a tempo.
Feb 26, 2010
Feb 26, 2010 at 7:47 PM UTC
Our affection was a spider web
As we slept in our separate homes
With our spirits inhabiting
Both bodies,
The gossamer was swindled
Carefully in between each
Eyelash and around each
Finger and toe,
Tiny filmy stings
Had our hearts connected.
I felt a pang inside me
When loneliness tugged
Your arms and plead with you
To follow it.
I wondered
As my tear ducts
Emptied themselves
Onto my cheeks,
How do I cope with
Sadness that is not
My own?
I have felt the
Icy sleet
That is one a.m.
With sad songs
And emptiness in
All aspects of life
And I wish it upon
No one.
I want the sadness
Only to be mine
I want to be greedy
I want to steal it
From you
If only so that
I could see you happy.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
tie me down
crowing about a crown of flowers
curl my palm into the hollow of your cheek
(oh my god drown me)
and here we have the soldier
hands covered in blood and knives (and something
else;but
we don't talk about that)
look how the blind man cries tonight
see these bones on the grass
frost building in the cavity between your ribs and
your skin
SCREAMING ****** IN THE HALLWAY
(THIS IS THE ONLY WAY YOU CAN HEAR YOURSELF
THINK
THIS IS THE ONLY WAY ANYONE KNOWS WHAT YOU ARE)
you, love, you, goldfinch
climbing windowsills
creep in the dead of night, cicatrix spiderwebs
here, here, here, in the small of your back
(can you feel me, here, crawling into your skin?can
you feel me sewing our palms together, goldfinch?)
"and the world will revel in wonder and delight--"
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
**** and chips
buried in the bass-line
All shaken heads tossed
listening to the misadventures of a shit-talker
Her lips taught and dry
sporting a second skin of ripped denim
Thick eyelashes caked in spiderwebs
Hustling on doc martens
crunching teeth beneath toes
Ankles taught with leather
A pretty ***** touched
like flowers dipped in chalk
stuck in choke it down memories
Quietly screaming
look for me
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
birds are made of trees
where do they hide from me
whispering wishes of insecurity
casting around like a clown
becoming somebody
holding
false dreams
no witness
I need jeans
that have some pockets
deep enough to stuff
my wallet
full of envy and greed
hundred dollars in the hole
knowledge from believing I can finally leave
sunkissed absence marking my feet
sore and tender
shoes of soul
legs shaking
arms quaking
mind racing
bruised breast
disguised wrists
deep from the core
sliced and discarded
nothing more
sore spine
open flesh
juicy and ripe
no milk in sight
feelings are lies
logic
bones
fingertips
telephone polls
and spiderwebs
splinters in my eyes
where is all of this going
who is it meant for
explore me
if you please
forced jaw
broke open
dry tongue
memories
do you miss me
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 3:32 PM UTC
it used to be daisies
under shining droplets of sun
transparent sadness
trapped in spiderwebs
now he's left on the
bleak balcony
with only his snapdragons
shaped like flower skulls
living for a tomorrow
no one believes in
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 12:20 AM UTC
After the rainstorm
The skies' transparent jewels
Strung on spiderwebs
Sparkle and glint like diamonds
Upon an emerald field
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC