The Adolescent Arachnid – Hour Nine

You are a spider boy,

Creeping  through small tight spaces

With seemingly more limbs than you ought

Since you haven’t yet adjusted to their expansion

And so spangle them about you

Like shooting stars.

Nobody knows what you know or see

With who knows how many eyes observing

From behind that dark fringe veil

Since you appear to be perfectly mute

As you slink from edge to edge

Effortlessly weaving

The web that binds us.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.