These spiders
Nest inside
Where the dark
And empty spaces
Hold webs
Instead of visions
Replacing dreams
I’ve lost

From each line
Which sway
As winds of anger
What phrases linger
When fears
Are birthed within

Tiny lies
Like eggs
For infant demons
Monstrous wishes
In their quick
And scuttling hands

So the lost
And silent voice
In this throat
Becomes complacent
As breath
And spoken changes
Cough silk
Instead of hope

As dust
Begins to mount
From patterns
Taking residence
Among shadows
Being woven
Across this dampened
Soul –

These chambers
Of my heart
Their deep
And musty crevice
And basement
Lacking center
To shelter
Wayward words

Though they must
Infested currents
Of vessels
Pumping madness
Blood is drawn

My living will
By prying insects
Whose base
And natural function
Is to trap
Inspired verse.

– J. Pigno

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