The Root of a Web

There’s an empty space inside a task

The box where you can’t work

But from that combination we see

A half formed heart of me.

Long surrounded by myths on TV

Not one of us can ponder what it means

But the central mystery be

Where can we fix this machine?

This is the spider’s den

But there is no way out of it

And here we can’t repair

Our way out of here

The spider eats the fly

And we are on a hunk of rotting meat