no words. even they do not like to stick around to save their sanity. i am not like you,
but i’ll give you children
i’ll try
just promise you’ll make a real thing out of me; a real useful thing. one that talks. and let me hunt for
myself. and for every thing
that couldn’t bear me long enough to hear my silence
or to really listen ‘cause if they did they would have learned that i can make them beautiful.
and look no now look, i know i'm not a grasshopper
i am a spider i am a designer—i weave a web so beautiful, so enticing not only do i fool and trap
you
and do a good job of it
not only do i make you feel safe enough that you finally think you have a home but i fool
myself too.
you know
i scare myself in the dark
how i make a mess of the things i do to you.
i tell you to leave, to save yourself don’t get eaten like everyone else! but you stick around
and i start to think it’s ‘cause you’re fond of me, but you’re just stuck, and you let me think
you’re in love
i know i'm the villain here but but why can’t there be two? you can’t possibly expect me to speak
when you laugh in my face as i try. i have been long telling you about the words, about how
they get stuck in the web on their way out—my web—on their way out to you. i love you love you
love you
i can give you so much, it just hasn’t arrived yet but it will!
they arrived tied with a pretty white bow, tied by you
you destroy everything beautiful i make
and you dress it up a little so you can call it yours
what is it you stay for if not what entices you. it cannot be me