Spider Silk Home

My mum tells me old habits die hard
I laugh because sometimes the only thing my old habits have their hands around is my throat
see, I’ve got a habit of running
Away
From books, from feelings,
would-be-lovers, new sunsets
from myself, and new sunrises sometimes,
places,
people,
things.
Nouns and adjectives.
Speaking of nouns, he asks me to run away with him sometimes
Let’s run away from home he says.
home is a noun
An abstract noun
And I tell him
I left home back ages ago
wherever it is, home has skid-marks of my feet gracing its welcome mat.
Home has boarded up windows, and jammed doors,
in fact the only thing alive in home anymore is probably spiders who’ve made their own homes there,
little spider webs, fragile threads stronger than anything else.
He says let’s just run away then, love
we’ll be spiders too,
make our own home
wrap it up in bolts of spider silk
So no one can ever get through.
He makes me smile, (a lot)
and so I say I’ll think about it.
See, I’ve been running away for so long, I’ve been around the universe twice and one half times,
but maybe, it would be nice to come home
to a spider web home
of our own
at the end of the third lap.


Image credits: Mike Depetris

Mortal Fears.

Venus, you whisper in my ear

and I sit up awake

with banshee screams weaving themselves back into my throat,

screams of No-No-No,

screams of Screw-the-gods

and Let-me-be’s,

screams of Please-let-me-stay

until I see it’s only you.

You try to calm me down

as dawn filters in our open window

but my mortal heart thuds and thuds and thuds

a cacophony of

lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub,

and I stare into your face wondering

how you throw around the cursed names

of these gods with so much ease.

Call me not Venus, nor Aphrodite,

I am not Minerva or Persephone,

neither am I Juno,

I am human, I am mortal so let me be,

let me keep my anonymity

away from the gods and their games,

they will only try to make heroes and legends out of me

and demand sacrifices out of what I don’t want to give,

they will only make chess pieces of my heart and mind-

of my loyalty and love.

Please,

let me stay here

with my arms around your neck in my faceless oblivion

because these gods live a lonesome life

with only frail humans for playtoys

and they take their pleasure in ripping us apart to put us together,

only to rip us apart again,

if only for the sake of having something to do.

Let me stay whole,

let me be mortal here

hidden in a cocooned world that

they do not know of,

because I have known no poison sweeter than my mortality,

and no truth has given me more joy

than this

that my tired heart might one day

give up on me.

Let me live to die

without tasting the immortals’ cursed ambrosia

again,

let me bleed red hot blood instead of freezing gold ichor;

I paid a small price for my anonymous mortality,

and I fear someday

the buyer will come knocking at my door

for a return,

before Thanatos does.

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Image credits go to rightful owners.