Arachnid

I asked my dad for a gift,

Eight metallic black, spiny legs

That search for an exit

In her plastic, wet prison.

Only to find her claustrophobic death chamber

Combusting inside,

Burning alcohol

Blazes in her blood,

Paralyzing her in her plastic tomb,

Her naked belly unveiled,

Her scarlet hourglass exhibited,

Embalmed in her alcoholic preservative,

I see my reflection soaked in guilt,

I reek of death,

My hands stained by mortality,

I see myself washed of innocence,

I am no longer a child,

I now carry out the noyades

I am an unjust executioner.