Feasting of the Spiders

Dead spiders hang from webs on my ceiling.

When they fall,

I will eat them,

Poison coursing through me,

My enemies will be numb,

As my fingernails meet their flesh.

I will feel the gore upon my fingertips.

This will also cause seclusion,

Though I am already secluded,

Isolated mercilessly from those who fear me...

But it will not yet bother me,

Though, when I tire of speaking with spindling spiders,

What then?

Shall I become bitter, hated... suicidal?

Why do I have enemies?

And why do I eat dead spiders?

I know I won't find the answers scrawled on the floor,

So the answers,

They will not find me.

They may get caught in the spider webs and dust,

Which have filled my mouth,

Emptying it of words to tell aloud.

And lo,

I shall speak naught but asphyxiated whispers.

The spiders will crawl all over me,

But will not find a feast,

The one that they thirst for.

I am incapable of satisfying,

All I offer to them is murmured conversation,

That I believe they do not hear.

And as I watch the falling dead spiders,

I perceive a specter at the door...

My enemy.

I finger the dagger at my belt,

Ever ready to fight,

He will feel this dagger...

And he will bleed...

And bleed...

And he shall die,

At my hands,

For he is the foul one.

Havoc is his ecstasy...

His demise shall be mine,

He wishes my death were that to him.

But he won't taste it,

As I taste the spiders' toxin.

He moves elegantly through the threshold,

Smiling in malice,

Unsheathing his weapon.

I unsheathe mine,

Steel clashes and cinders fly as blades meet.

The fight begins,

We dodge,

Strike,

Miss,

Eyes glinting in excitement.

The final parry,

I strike lethally,

Then my blade falls from my hand.

He flashes his ugly smile,

Before my nails claw his leathery flesh.

I snatch up my dagger,

Plunge it deep into his heart...

As does his to my stomach.

I scream in fury and pain.

But I have still won.

We both descend to the floor,

The enemy's death instantaneous...

Mine slow and painful,

But full of triumph...

Though it does not stop the pain.

My eyes close as the ceiling caves and the sky turns blue to garnet.

My blue blood flows into black blood,

Eternal sting before my last breath.

The spiders will have their feast.