In every room
I’ve lived in,
all the dilapidated shacks
over the years that I’ve
stayed in, always had a
brown spider that crawled
the walls.
It had a little suitcase.
I thought to myself that it
planned on leaving, moving to
someplace better.
It never did.
It always just set up shop, and
spun a web in the corner and caught
flies, and occasionally a small moth.
On drunken sad moon nights,
I sang dirges to the trapped bugs.
They smiled and laughed, even though
they were dying.








Your ability to visualise by using nothing but words is amazing.
Thank you for sharing this piece.
Thanks.
Powerfully penned, Thomas. I can relate as usual my friend, unfortunately I been there and bought the t-shirt. Incredible write. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you.
Wonderful ink. Reminds me of a few depressing nights.
Thank you. I appreciate it.