SPINNING

Spinning

He spun his web and I got caught, easily
I stood for a minute, eyes on his flesh
His empty words filled the darkness
Sand filtered and dripped from his mouth
Echoes of false signs left me cold
Bleeding feet from his soul of glass
A faceless man he becomes
Pieces of metal slice my blood
Spinning circles take me home

Drew Frederic

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Published by Drew Frederic

Photographer, Artist, Poet, Chef, and Photojournalist.

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