Crimson Spider

Crimson spider,

you walk across my hand;

you must know me,

you understand that I,

unlike any other man,

would not crush you:

I stand above you.

I left your web alone.

Are you running a slaughterhouse?

There are so many carcasses

strung up on your lines.

Are you afraid-

or is it my own hand

trembling?

Crawl up to my lips;

bite me slowly,

your stomach I'll gently lick.

If I praised you,

would you blush?

Or is human-lacking

just wearisome?

Can you see through me?

I'm the master's errant son.

You shame me:

you always follow your pulse,

you always wound to kill.