My Webbed Mind
Lost time
Little fat black spider
Whom dwells with screaming women
You crawl upon there bodies
There eyes wide and white
I take you off there silk skin
Into chambers of glass
Filled with drips of aged beer
Was it yesterday or the day before
They feared you
They told me to rid you from air
But as I stare at you I forgave you
I visit you on the same dayΒ
Maybe, I can't rememberΒ
The day you crawled within there hair
The day they screamed for meΒ
And I bear that timeless chamber
Was it last week, or an hour ago
Surly not, for now your young have
Popped from your silk sack
I visit you, next week or yesterday
Where are you NOW?
Where are you, little fat black spider?
Are you walking upon there dead skin
Or bone or drowning in marrow
Let me take you once againΒ
To tomorrow
To my shed of forgotten time
My shed where I stand crying
Scratching at the rusted hinges
Of my webbed mind.
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Comments
whoa, nelly this is so wondrous! I love this
Hi Lisa, thanks so much, I was trying to put in words the frustration I feel as a human being belonging to a race that continues to repeat it's mistakes and never learn, never moving on, this virus represents this, we have been here before, many times throughout history, the spider continuing to crawl upon flesh, dead or alive, always going backwards, The repetitive nature of life and death stuck in time. This is how I feel now.
Thanks for your kind comment,Β
Love and light X.
Fab write Gerard ?
Thank you Marion X.
An interesting metaphor you've used here to great effect, Gerard x