There is no feeling quite like that of a train of thought that gets away. It is fleeting; it is ever-changing; it is running. It is running from you.
The conductor glares past you with a fear-stricken expression. Any passengers that have not abandoned ship scream at your being relentlessly. The whole scene is sickening, and it is because of you.
You are as hairy as you are disgusting.
...What?
There is a mirror. You are eight legs and beady eyes. You are of phobias and brooms on ceilings. You are a monster in your own right. You are a spider, catching prey and wrapping them [around your finger] for later.
You are a spider. You will never be anything more.
I crush you beneath my boot like my forefathers before me, and in the face of your terror I will laugh without consequence. I am of humankind; I am of the monsters of suburbia. I will never be anything more.
YOU ARE READING
all the things (we cannot see)
Randompoetry and the ramblings of a madman. ((ft. INKTOBER 2023!!!)) (((as poetry!!!))) Hello, I am trying to get back into writing <3 TW: might get gorey/angsty. Cover: applestruda on tumblr (their art makes me feral <3)
