Cobwebs and Promises

Silky spun sayings thread over the mind
like delicate strands of weave.
They lure you into the clouds
where they become a swing in dreams
ready to believe in miracle
prepared to see tomorrow
as amazing, hopeful and bliss.

But it was black widows whispers,
venomous vows filled with acid,
before you can escape
and seek some release from that snare,
it's dinner time for your mind
a putrid feast upon your trust,
soul devoured by the lying cannibal
with prowess to devour,
a skill to thrill with deceptive thrill.

And when your guts are ripped out
with a pool of blood on the floor,
these same lips spill more toxins
deep into your wounds,
because its never enough
to make you crippled
unless they can disembowel you too,
leave you mutilated and paralyzed
so you are always terrorized
of any phrase possessed of positivism,
utterly a shell in spirit,
just ghost of essence sucked dry inside,
trapped in that web in the head
incapable of doing other
than being a prisoner of fangs.