Spider Country

Thinking of you throws me off balance,

an archer missing their mark,

sin,

slightly off-key,

wavering,

and I may trip

or fall,

and I vow to get rid of you~

the repetitive thought of you~

but you’re anchored deep,

do you think of me?

I ask myself achingly.

How do you see me?

It feels like I’m a toddler in your daycare.

I decide it’s over now,

until the next time I think of you,

it’s lovingly,

you’re always there,

ready to tease me.

I just can’t get rid of you.

I think I am addicted to the fall

because when I get up again,

I know more, I’m a little more worn.

Perhaps perfection is when I

stick the pose,

but I can’t stay still,

I am addicted to the fall.

My mind wraps in loops about you:

I think I want you in my life,

you’re no good,

why do I like you?

The fall makes me doubt,

whirl inside my brain,

and I see you smiling,

at the outcome of this game

you’ve trapped me in.

I always get out again,

well,

so far,

but like a moth,

I’m hopelessly drawn to your flame,

like I look too long at the sun,

and I stare into you

expectantly,

awaiting your transformation

into dust,

ashes falling into a neat heap,

anticipating your scream.

But wait,

Are we playing my game or yours?

Do you fall headfirst as well?

Could it be I’m affective too?

We lean in like galaxies,

giving birth

to an explosion of

falling and catching,

catching and falling.

Do I touch you as much as you touch me?

Because the way you touch me

is infinite and the reason I look so long,

is that I hope I’ll find myself in you

or lose myself in finding you,

because at that point

there is no difference.

Tell me how I make you feel.

I so badly want to dance with you,

move you around,

pay homage to strife

in that sham fight,

and without you,

this would not exist.

There is that.

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