Arachnid Clauses

You see (leaning back), One never loses their innocence;
they just put it back in the toy box and close the lid.

Thinking void, as four walls, loitering, against my skull,
smoking their cigarettes,
watching the weeds grow through the cracks in my pavement.

It is not that I mind, the waning claustrophobia finds
a mine within this cobbled web. Perhaps to spy?

Pressing onward, worlds apart,
sparing partners play their hearts.

Casual as a summer’s breeze,
festooned with fraught, they pass their time making love
atop the toy box in their childish room (ever deeper driving the lid).

Suppose this imposition of thought is more intent
than passively brought. How insidious is that drop?

Chicanery! Chagrin! Scream "Foul"! Begin.
Again?

Falling in such a shallow abyss
we crawl into our own refuse

begging forgive. Never knowing,
only dreaming, while
wallowed just the same,

that a shining flower is atop our grave.