Death balances on the tip of my finger
Spinning and whirling in a macabre dance
Suddenly stopping the motion to appear as a spider
Spindly-legged redly-eyed attention fixed in a mortal stare
Slowly one limb lifts almost as if to point
I hold my trembling breath unsure uncertain uneasy
Distracted by a sudden noise turning my gaze
Then look back to find only a smear of gray ash
Still I ask myself you and all dire arachnids
Is now the time is now the time is now the time
The time is always now the time is always the time is
Leave a Reply