| Song of a Big Spider Don't eat the apple cores, you'll be a cannibal if you eat the apple cores. there are little children's legs inside of there. Eat the apple core only if you like to eat little children's legs. Delicious little legs. White, soft, unscarred. no hair, tempting me. I bite and my corpse hardens as my blood gets thicker and the water is separated from the teeth bits and cancer and marrow and bone. Crunchy centers, chewy outers. Children's legs are firm and strong, though they can be stubby. I have tried so hard not to get the silk stuck in between their toes, but often times I get so fleshdrunk that I wake up barely alive beneath a shoe. but the strength derived from discarded apple cores will strengthen me. And I will rise to power and I will spin and spin dizzy ravels and build an empire and get all I need from a little girl with baggy tights and shiny hair who likes to draw and calls her paternal grandmother "Nonni" and likes to sing along to everything. Don't eat the apple core, little girl. Give it to me. Don't swallow me tonight whilst I crawl over your sleeping body, whilst I plunge my fangs into the fleshy part above your knee and draw out your innocence. Don't eat the apple cores. |