Nameless

Weaving the fabric of a sunken universe Gliding the winds of a bottomless curse Little spider, hanging in my head Free of the wings that really are chains Forging a mirror that never shatters A mirror that does not exist Little spider, aching in my head Blind and deaf, drowned in ecstacy Crawling in the pain of bliss Seeking the sweets of sickness Little spider, dying in my head Torn from itself, immune to embrace "At least, be humane", so that's what they said Hold on to your pain, for it is your cocaine Little spider, growing in my head Here is the world, cradle of the dead