Friday (Spider's Blood)

Friday (Spider's Blood)

A Poem by AquamanEffect

it’s like a spider, this doubt.
spinning webs for me in ways I never can. sticky winter-white strands that are as soft as clouds but hold on so much harder than floating angels ever do. I want to say I never lose. but I do.
The spider doesn’t though"while I camp out in the library because I think that’s the place where knowledge grows, the little guy does what he wants,
crawling around every corner of my mind, trying to make his escape
and if I try to shut him down when I try harder he just bares his fangs
and laughs because my goals are far too intricate for anyone but a spider to accomplish. too many strands. too many plans. I’m overwhelmed. I guess that’s why Im here.

Have you ever seen the way roses live? So unaware that they’re beautiful. If you were a rose and I told you about how many women you sway and how many tears you induce and how many mistakes you’ve made right you wouldn’t believe me because you’re just there. Living. Growing. Stretching through the soil, clinging to the light, grasping every little drop of water for hopes that you’ll survive in the night. But living. I guess I’m a rose too.

Even though the thorns on my skin are there to keep me safe they just end up being unnecessary. I think if I focused on the sheen of blood-red dye that makes my face I would feel a lot better. Bleh. I just need the right soil. I think. Or soul. I guess all I can do is keep my face to the sunlight in hopes that I can grow an inch past this thorn. At least spiders don’t frequent gardens. Do they?

© 2014 AquamanEffect


Author's Note

AquamanEffect
This is meant to be heard in a spoken-word fashion.

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Added on March 17, 2014
Last Updated on March 17, 2014
Tags: spoken word, doubt, frustration, tired

Author

AquamanEffect
AquamanEffect

Seattle, WA



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