Crawls

The spider crawls across the floor and so goes my heart. Over and over it tries to call to me; I shut it out. Heavy, heavy, nothing I can say, nothing worth saying, to tame, to draw out the patterns that twist and curl, connected in their intricate web design.

Silence now, but still it lingers. Creeping, at first, then growing, rapid, towering like a rising tide. When will it break? Never! I drown my love in an ocean of desire, swirling and moaning, and—

Thoughtless, unconscious, I lie upon the beach, waiting to be taken out to sea, to join the frothing waves that lap at my feet. The crab scuttles on pin-needle feet. A wave crashes against the rocks. This can’t be right. Soon the dark clouds will roll in and rain will hammer down, washing what’s left out into the rushing currents. Take me! Take me! Only I’ve forgotten how to swim.

Wake now! The dreams are not dreams, only the mind’s broken screams. Thoughts like seepage from the sea, drip, drip. There is no consistency. The flood is soon to resume. What to do? What to do? The spider scurries up a wall, pauses a moment, plotting then disappears into through a crack. Gone.