1234…

1234 Whos that at the door

(My imagination) and its probably a giant spider

with briefcase, magnifying glass, swimsuit, cook book, and 1234 other things in his hands.

which are stuck on like childs afterthought onto the ends of his spindly legs?

He is straddling the door hole and has built a sticky web that would trap me

if I were to ever leave, I would be trapped in it then she would unleash a Shelob

attack with its giant arse spike which would inject me with poison and turn me to stone.

So will I ever open that door, of course, its just my imagination. It’s not real.

Is that a hair I see coming from under the door..sliding across the floor.

No, it could be a leg, I can’t bear to look to confirm it, but the sound of something slithering

is enough to make me pull up my duvet that bit higher Until I hear the sound of the tap from next door.

And I can relax knowing that it’s only real in my head not what’s creepings under my bed…

Its in my head, its in my head, it’s in my head, it’s what makes me shiver and I quiver when I read them words

and see them pictures in nursery rhymes and obscene crimes of the animal world live in my dreams like the word.

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