how can i connect my ideas about thoughtless webs spinning crisscross patterns in my toss'd head? the silky layers spread and reflect like lanterns against mirrored ground all across the membranous town - guiding my feet, forcing them to leap nineteen steps at a time until they fall out of line and out of sync with the thoughts i presumably think. or thought. please understand that the effort to articulate could easily be made if i could simply create, but no thanks to apollo, i have swallowed every slate which once enabled me to sketch or sculpt or paint. now the daintiest of rhymes resemble the faintest of times when my following of readers once considered me a saint. my mouth wears a restraint to hold these thoughts in place in case my internal chatter starts to eternally splatter throughout the web my spider spun. now these run-on sentences can no longer run when their legs are not eight, but fewer than one. the meaning behind the lie is: demeaning refined replies of any time my crooked mind had tried to spit the spider out like the spout full of rain.
ASIDE: but what if my brain is dry?
what if my mind is a drought of good thinking? then why am i sinking if the water is shrinking? one cannot sink in a deep-seated drought no more than a mute can sing or shout. i am no mute, however, so i shout to the spider to flee from my skull, but he is too clever, so deeper he crawls until my thoughts are not thinking of anything at all except what they will catch or what they'll enthrall, but not to absorb, only to survive, so the lessons i learn will not be contrived or devised in the least, instead they will spin like a web from the mouth of spidery twin who looks much like myself but bears nothing within. he just wears my skin and an unsettling grin. flash flash flash spin spin spin hello, alex. let us begin.
- Alexander McCurdy