Maybe I’m oversimplifying this

but if you were as you are right

now except tomorrow morning

you were a spider,

you’d just be a spider, right?

You wouldn’t, like,

write HELP

on your web.

I mean, what could anybody

really do? Your girlfriend

comes over and it’s hard

to kiss a spider, hard to

wrap your arms

around a spider.

She asks how you are

and you spend the next

hour and a half writing

BEEN BETTER in butt

silk on your web?

I hate to say this but

you might have to find

a spider girlfriend. And I

really hate to say this

but there’s a high

likelihood she will eat you.

Being a spider isn’t all bad.

Lots of chilling. Not totally

unlike what you’re doing now.

Except you’ll eventually

have to inject your prey until

its organs dissolve

and you slurp it up like

a bug slushy.

Who knows, maybe you’ll

like it. Well, you’ll need to like it.

Your long lost relative could be

that spider in the corner,

sucking down some

moth broth as you both

watch Wheel of Fortune

together.

You, But a Spider

Ian Valor

Poetry
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© 2026 Ian Valor