dirty clouds and hopeful thunder

she has spiders crawling from her
           and as her words enter me i feel their fangs
      grab hold and slowly tear me
                                    asunder
                              with neither a flinch
                          she is watching me go to pieces

and the winter air feels grand
   on my exposed self
          and all i can move is my eyes
   
   watch her creatures take over
              she will spread a grand web with only a glance
    pluck the silver stands with softly crafted words
   as you are lulled
      your never see the fangs
 
wake calling her name thousand miles away
    scratching a strange phantom bite
        
to old to be shaken up
    but to young to let it go