I swallow society unknowingly-
a spider in my sleep
That first dangles,
And then twists webs
In my acceptance

And I breathe out the aftermath
Peaceful and overlooked-
a cloud of smoke in the summer

I knowingly digest the hypocrisy-
the 'I will be like that' reasoning
And in defective, reticent protest
I reject society's taste-
agreeable in my mouth,
revolting in my blood

And we all have swallowed spiders-
that impossible perfection
That you have pressed to your lips
And left on your curb
You supposedly swallow 20 spiders
In a lifetime

Stop sleeping.
Then open your mouth.