from by A Tiny Spider

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The center spins out toward the edge
And I can nigh find respite from the night
Tied, bound from the inside
I find myself, shine-eyed, foolish wight, my life, lowly and trite
I cry nightmare, bleed out through my eyes
Dry skies, I would die, before I'd find the light
Sear my insides, prod me with a scythe
I might find my right, force myself outside

The center returns to the inside
I find wretched life, confide, then decide
Storm clouds cry the light, end eternal night
And I, wishful I, slumber with peaceful sigh.


from Sub Lumina, released August 1, 2017



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A Tiny Spider Wakefield, Massachusetts

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