The spider on the wall

Click, click, clicks 

With the humdrum humming 

Of conundrums strumming- 

Crumpling, 

Crippling, 

Listful wishful webbing, 

Bedding- 

Ebbing from the hole in 

The inner spinner's netting 

Forgetting, 

Regretting- 

Fretting from the fright 

Of a small mite's light 

Collapsed. 

Say what you will of 

The spider that kills- 

It's purpose, 

It's meaning, 

It's prose, 

It's scream. 

Pretty words for all to see that

Reach beyond the impossible dream, pray

Open minds soak hungry rhymes to

Save a writer's gasping life, help bring about an

End of days to closeted thought and hidden ways.

In theory, words should stretch and bend to

Send forth brain's

Allegorical blends, but

Publishing prose and the weightier things are

Often restricted by limited means,

Enter the web, the new frontier! With words made free for all

To hear! and I with new-age modern pen

Seek an easy means for thought to extend, oh

Dare to dream new writers of old, for here is an audience to

Reap what we've sown, let's

Exit the closet and enter with song as we've found

A place where we truly belong. Now, look to the capitals to

Mend el fin - for, truly

         By mere and utter chance I turned down Dodds Street that day instead of Grimes on my way home from school. I never deviated from my path if I could help it as Grimes was the quickest way home from St. Mary’s, however I felt a draw to the path and decided to act upon it. 

          Dodds was an old street painted with glorious victorian mansions, every single one at least a hundred years old. As I was passing a particularly unkempt home that was painted in a weathered dark green, the front door of the house opened, and out ran a large and particularly fluffy black cat. In the doorway stood an elderly man with a cane looking rather distressed at the escape of his pet. Just as the cat was crossing the road, a car turned onto Dodds and was speeding its way down the quiet street with the animal directly in its path. 

          In an utter act of stupidity to which I cannot account for to this day, I ran out in the street to save that stupid cat.

          Luckily, spotting a human rather than a cat was easier for the driver, and he braked at the last second, causing the cat to run back to his owner and myself to realize I was going to live that day. After some choice words from the driver I turned around and found the old man standing directly behind me. He was stooped with age and his skin wrinkled like the bark of a gnarled tree, while his hair laid in flat wisps across his shiny head. His outfit of brown suspenders and a black bow tie made him look strangely out of place by at least a hundred years. 

          “You saved Princess, why did you do that?” he said peering at me through his out of date spectacles. 

           “I-I don’t know,” I said, realizing he was talking about the cat, “I didn’t want it to die I suppose.” 

           “You’ve never been down this street before have you?” he said. 

           “No I, I normally go home by way of Grimes...” 

          “Ah, how serendipitous!” he exclaimed still peering at me strangely. 

          “Yes, I ...suppose,” I said, feeling more and more that something about the old man was a little out of place. 

          “Come inside,” he said, “I have something for you.” 

          “No sir that won’t be-”

“Nonsense I insist!” he exclaimed and he turned back to his regal house, to which I followed rather reluctantly.

The house was surprisingly well kept on the inside despite its outer appearances. 

            The old man led me into the entryway and said, “Wait here, I’ll only be a moment,” and he creaked his way down the hall and into a side room. A moment later he emerged carrying what looked like a fishbowl. 

           “My gift to you” he said holding the bowl out to me. I bent down and looked into it to find a beautiful pink and purple beta swimming inside. 

           “A...fish...?” I asked uncertainly looking up from the bowl. 

           “Oh not just any fish, this is a wishing fish!” 

           “I’m sorry sir but...what’s a wishing fish?” 

          “Why! Never heard of a wishing fish! Its just as the name states- a fish that grants wishes of course!” 

            I bent down again and looked at the fish. He swam to face me and floated in his little bowl. I raised my hand and waved at it, and he took his fin and shook it a bit back at me. 

          “Ah see that, he likes you!” said the man happily, handing me the bowl. “Now then he doesn’t require too much attention, just a bit of feeding and companionship, I’ve found he’s particularly fond of oranges- ah but you’ll figure it out! Take good care of him!” And before I knew it he had shuffled me out the door and onto the porch. 

          “Crazy old man,” I muttered to myself, “Wishing fish! How serendipitous indeed, that’s the last time I turn down Dodds Street.” And I started for home. 

            But as I was walking it began to rain- hard. I was soaked to the bone before I’d even made it to the end of the street, and I was still at least 5 more blocks from my house. I stopped and held the fishbowl level with my face. 

            “Alright,” I said, “If you’re so magical Fish, then I wish I was already home.”       

           Nothing happened. 

           I shook my head laughing at the fact that I’d just tried to make a wish on a fish, when suddenly a howling wind began to swirl around me, shielding the surrounding street from view. The tornado of wind surrounding me sped faster and faster until I was sure I’d be swept away when it suddenly stopped with a loud whoosh. Slowly I opened my eyes and found myself unmistakably face to face with my front door. In utter disbelief I held the fish at eye level staring at him. He just floated there blinking at me, and then shook his little fin again in an unmistakable wave. 

           “Serendipitous indeed,” I muttered again, but this time with belief.

“Well little fish, I think you and I are going to be great friends.” And with that I named my wishing fish Lucky, and I’ve had him ever since.     

I can't put together the pretty words 

I try 

But i can't paint you a picture

from the arbitrary lines

Draw you a picture? 

I'll give you a mugshot. 

Me, there, belly-bummed and undone 

Netflix slum 

On the lone bed  

Blue light turning eyes bright 

To the wishful images 

And I'll sigh and say 

Tomorrow! 

But I am too far gone in the dance 

And round and round we'll go 

Until we all fall down 

Because we dropped dead 

So to cope I'll play dead in the 

Waking life  

Fish-eyed in the blue light 

The same old dance 

round and round 

Finding solace in the words 

Trying to convince you  

The one's I know 

Are pretty