The Spider

In the dark recesses of every human soul,
Hides a hungry hunting spider,
That seeks to rise from deep within,
And gain dominion over the day.
It watches over us when we sleep,
Until the moment is decided,
Then with deadly intent it starts to weave,
The sinister filaments of its tyranny,
A web of lies with our wires, inter-connecting,
Each to the other, under constant surveillance,
In order to entice us into its silken traps,
That we have been taught to call freedom.
Seducing the eye and enslaving the world,
With its beautiful images of killing machines,
For fear is its name, and war its shadow,
As restless it roams in our sweated dreams,
Prostituting itself to fools and traitors,
In search of a mate, to replicate its criminality.
The self destroyer, it yearns for death,
But cannot act without a hostage,
Night black, within its polished ebony shell,
It scuttles in the gloom, seeking entrance,
Down the dark spider holes of perception,
Whose red, wet lips are always whispering,
Sanitising the slaughter, our TV reality,
It crawls in through your eyes,
It crawls in through your ears,
Then makes it way into your brain,
Building for itself, a simple prison there.