Only To Then Die In Your Arms Thirsty Poem by Mark Heathcote

Spiders have many legs and eyes
Making easy work of life and death;
Having many young is a delicious benefit.
You can't be too picky what you chew,
Ah, emancipated in the darkness half-starved.

Spiders they might not be discerning.
But I'm sure they've still, got feelings
And even some passionate platonic yearnings.
For their numerous dead discarded victims,
Ghostly hanging around them like decoration.

Spiders are the ultimate wrappers
It must be like Christmas Eve…
Waiting for a bite and being woken in the night
By something urgently and desperately
Putting-up a David and Goliath fight.

Spiders like to suspend and swing…
Fangs agape sucking on a maddened wasp
That won't give in. It wants to live.
And it's just a match to escape deaths call,
Leaving me questioning, who will win?
What's it all for
What's it all for
What's it all for.

Who's my liberator, who is my executioner?
Who's really free here, who's the prisoner?
Who's the underdog, who's the winner?
Spiders are spinning tenuous snares, "Love,
What's worse" I want the same from your kiss.

I want a David and Goliath fight.
I want a panty and stocking fight in the night;
Desperately in your arms,
I want the same fear and flight…
Only to then die in your arms thirsty, and say goodnight.

I want the same from your kiss
As a spider, a spider
Who's got passionate, platonic, yearnings?
Some discerning feelings of where he'd like to
Sink his blood-thirsty soul-searching fangs.
And never-never ask.
What's it all for.