On the Gambling of Spiders

Lying is a dirty gamble. The Russian Roulette of relationships, you never know when the lie will become uncovered. Must you give up the game when pinned to the wall? No, throw again, make another lie; you might win this time. This time you could be home free. Win the Jackpot and leave. What a relief. Soon enough, however, you'll be back at the tables drooling for another roll, new lies to satisfy your cravings. You lust for larceny. You dive for deceit. You will thrust your words through the epidermis, between the ribcage, and straight into the lungs; and with a new stab of malice, you tear the heart from cartilage, leaving its owner slashed with the sharp words of deceit.

Now, victorious in the Casino of Lies, you crawl through the dark opening, back into the cupboard. Your mouth drips with the blood of your victims, fresh from the open wounds caused by your pretense and trickery. Oh, for remorse! But no, you simply go back to spinning your web, your web of lies. The higher you go, the more intricate the pattern, but the faster you go, the more muddled the strands. Mucus drips onto the dishes over which you hover, suspended by the sticky residue coming from your abdomen. Careless of the ones you affect, cold-hearted towards the now heartless friends you used to cling to. They are gone. You have eaten them alive. Drunken on the elixir called deception, you knife and you stab, until all that is left in your friends are sparse drops of blood and good-will, laid waste by your treachery.

"Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive"

Flee from spiders, the gambling vermin drunk on lies and deception. Cleave to close friends, true friends. Friends who encourage and lift you up.

Be Wary

nate.