Digressing

a sensation creeps over me like a
poisonous spider moving towards prey;
left with emptiness, I regurgitate
volumes of uncooked, undigested ideas,
many of which were premature stillborn;
peering into the self-incriminating darkness,
I pluck out the "i's" that have offended me,
offering them to the spider as a somewhat
hesitant, loosely constructed model for change.

30Oct13