Carry Your Own Water

I can see spiders crawling on the inside of you. They can see me. It's not subtle either. Whatever unheavenly operation they are carrying out comes to an immediate halt upon. An all out staring contest ensues. It is either the result of fright or a bluff. I can not tell. Even in passing one glance seems to freeze their unauthorized business. It would be a lie to suggest I have some pipeline into their intention, but it can not be good. And yes, it is a singular effort. Why else would they all glare at me? I make them deeply unhappy. They tickle your hip and thigh until a sudden urge to leave takes hold of you. These intruders flee from a checkmate they are sure I am ready to play. Yet if I brought this criminal trespass to your attention, you would have me committed in record time. Since when have you ever accused me of prying into your affairs? Am I a grand inquisitor for asking about your change of mood? Each coughing fit is a direct result of their indiscriminate webbing. No lozenge can reverse that type of agitation. There hasn't been one time in which your insistence of being okay was not accompanied by an immobilized fly. Your new enemies share no historical grievance with you. Yet the impulse to cut them down is not quieted by reason. Neither are the fears that sprouted up over night indigenous to your mind. You have become the employee to an adversarial spore. A troublesome egg has hatched on your tongue making you speak perverse things you never uttered. I will save my brother by holding his hands down while the minister forces him to swallow a wren whole.