Between Seven and Nine

Fine maple colored hairs glisten off the falling sky

Serene ­like ­still waters ­of ­a ­pond the­ heat­ begins ­to ­die

Many eyes gazing through stands of soft brown fur

A ­thousand ­eyes ­I stare  ­at ­you my ­numerous ­thoughts­ demure

The slightest sense of danger adrenalin hits a peak

So unaware of where I stare, fresh prey is all I seek

I have more legs than I’ll ever need

But still I use them all

For if I ever loose my grip I’ll not doubt to catch my fall

I rest when I’m tired and hunt during the peak

Descending off the blazing eye in the sky

I have no imagination only a never-ending need to survive

A ­tarantula­ am ­I

I ­leave­ now ­to ­hunt ­with ­the­ only ­weapon ­I­ own

Hooks ­extend­ off ­my ­jointed­ legs­ once ­again­ I am alone

[spreaker episode_id=4499679]

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