Arachne's Spell

Sleep yon wanderer and weave your dreams beneath thy spell. the pleasantries only deceive the fate that has befell. Thy webs are woven wondrously around your weaklings mind. Your every thought belongs to me, so leave all things behind. Within my webs you shall not fight, accept that you've been caught. A passing thing shall be the bites and then you shall feel naught. Thy minions seek the essence of life in which they may all dine feasting from a fountain pulsing blood; emotions warm like thickened wine. Hush thy humble human host and rest eternal in these dreams fair thee well as restless ghost spun deep into Arachnae's seams.