This is just a section of a really thoughtful and cool lineation Bethany did of "Acid Fizz - 1."
It extends another leg and both limbs
rapidly needle us and roll us into the web.
We can’t move our legs or spine, our whims
are silenced. But no – how can I be left
on the Earth, trapped? How can I be
contained in matter when I am less
than ether? The spider inspects me
and I know it will consume us. The silk finesse
fills in over our eyes. Its legs prod us, finally
wrapping us tighter and tighter. Every
pause between jabs I expect to feel
its mouth on our head, to feel the acids
digesting us in its hideous body. We will be its meal,
and where will my spirit go? Deeper, placid
into this world, absorbed in the spider’s gut?
Back into the darkness as an insect’s ghost?
For the first time I feel what I used to imagine death
would be. No limbs to move, no eyes to see, just a host
of sound, which slows then stops as I steady my breath,
and my antennas bind together.
There’s no evidence there is anything
outside of my thoughts except that
I feel the bug’s brain still turning. I wish I could say something –
I wish I could tell it that I’m sorry, a place mat
for his anger. It’s trying to breach my thoughts.
It tugs my mind through its own
and shows me a path to something, to the chord
that released the toxic fog. I hear a moan,
and it is put in front of me as if waiting for me to pull it, lord
of this machine.
I grasp it and I steam
from our pores and float
through the silk tomb. It seems
I am a gas expanding into the world, a moat
between the ground and the sky.
I waft above the cocooned millipede
and am pained to leave it behind.
I must be acidic because I burn the spider, proceed
through it, as I engulf it. It’s exoskeleton, a burnt orange rind,
browns and it writhes within me.
I expand further, rise above the battle,
then above the desktops. The world
thins. The desks, the shelves, the rattled
man at his computer, the walls all whirl,
I lose the Earth. The darkness I’ve lived
in so long without making it my home
racks back into focus. My mind gives,
Only the radio follows me there, a sound dome,
then it dissolves away too.