4

Patient, Old Spider, deftly spins,

His woven trap of sort-of-sins,

 

And waits the wayward’s flailing wings;

Wears him down, a’strumming strings.

 

One drink, one pill, one pipe, one peek;

Until he’s mummy-wrapped and weak.

 

And then Old Spider sucks him dry…

 

Of life, and love, and will to fly.

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