Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads,
A nightly nightmare for each shining strand.
Tying my hands and constricting my head.
Try to disperse with a wave of my hand.
The more that I flail, the thicker they seem,
Demons attacking my weak, crumbling mind.
Weak like the knees of my worn out old jeans,
Succumb to embrace my satin demise.
Sickly stained sprites stringing threads all about;
Without a doubt, I've invited them home.
They dance as they weave, encircling my throat,
Blind in the deluge, 'cross my soul they roam.
From silver threads a noose shall be fashioned.
I'll dance and dangle; death be impassioned.