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Writer's pictureSpyders Digest

"Twin Faces" by Spyder

Updated: Aug 15, 2018



She was an arrow

the devil shot, laughing, at the sparrow

yeah but she was

a breathing tree once

so she missed its feathers

ripped in two against a tree trunk


she loves the devil

but never stopped dancing undisheviled

yeah cause he wants

unfeeling demons

folded in his fingers.

Instead you attest the real ones


but I am the deliverance of misfortune,

to deliver the blue love of hungry abortion

the skys hand shuts enveloping us in distortions;

you, the sinner, run through us from nothing to warn us


she is the soul and he twists it uncontrolled,

who gets the ghost if the ghost is us?

she sits alone and she sits with the dethroned,

who gets the soul if the soul is dust?


we will get the sun

she still forgets to run into it

we killed them for love

she killed your death because it's ruined

us


We love filming skins decay

Steel wasnt the skeletal song of razors across a jaw

because Illness Is a Face;

feel nothin but chemical balm, the nature of god is raw.


She Was Illnesses array

we loved peeling skin away from it.

She tucked silver into grey

weaknesses just wilted away


because illness is a face


IF BIRTH WAS A PALE DREAM

FEEDING US STEEL

BLEEDING FROM A HUMAN BEING,


WINTER WAS INHALING

SWEET STREAMS OF TEAL

LEAKING OF THE BLUEST FEELINGS.


SCISSORS CUT THE STALE SEAMS

REACHING FROM PEELED

SEEDLINGS UNDER USELESS EVENINGS


ILLNESS OF THE ANGEL MEAT,

SHE LEAVES SURREAL

BLEEDING UNDER MOONLIT CEILINGS


THE TILTED MISSHAPEN HEAD OF THE SUN

WAS WILTING IN ANCIENT STEMS UNDER US,

SOME KILLED IT WITH SACRED DEATH BUT THE BLOOD

COMES SPILLING WITH FADED RED WHERE NOTHING WAS.


THE ONLY SONG I NEVER NEEDED TO SING

WAS THE FEELING OF NOTHIN

BUT THERE WAS SOMETHIN SPILLIN FROM S


A FOLDING DAWNS SKY ENDED BETWEEN HER TEETH,

BUT THE WHEEL SPINS ABOVE THEM.

LOVE HER IN THE SUN SET, KILL ANYONE OTHERWISE

dont let me fill with bitter grey

pillars in the maze

that still hits the age of tomorrow


someone is singin in its dismal alone


Illness is a face








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