Anansi

Glistening silk disguises the shroud of deceit, the chorale of composure walking stately in tune to the renditions of my failure, all seemingly flawless as a mother appears in the eyes of older fathers While I shall not fly close by To be entrapped, I have been stung by the cries of unfortunate souls that now hang as dried remnants of rebels who dared, I cling to the shadows and wait So drink, spider, It's what you're here for.

menoh

I am a button pusher. I stir up trouble. It is what I do. I live in the borders between light and dark. I can write about beautiful things, and joy and love, but I find I am more creative when i write about the dark. I love to hold a mirror up to the...

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