I have something to say.
Sometimes I see baby spiders make webs in front of my eyes.
It keeps them open, and I see them embalm bigger flies in their
stretched cotton wool blankets.
Cuddling them to death.
I have something to tell you.
I listen to life around me, and while beanstalks of experience grow
violently out of the mouths of my friends, the vines wrap and coil around my ankles,
Until they trip themselves up.
I have something to do.
There’s a switch in front of me.
And every time I click it the door opens, but it has another closed door ahead of it.
It has a solution. I’m sure of that.
I have to do something.
There is always a solution. An end.
Even if it doesn’t seem
Bethan Rees lives in Swindon, Wiltshire and has appeared in Fly on the Wall, Atrium, Persephone’s Daughters, Domestic Cherry, Daily Drunk, Fresh Air, The Poet’s Haven Digest, I am not a silent poet, Lonesome October Lit, Amaryllis and Three Drops Press. She currently studies MSc Creative Writing for Therapeutic Purposes, runs Wellbeing Writing groups and can be found sharing wellbeing work on: www.safeandsoundpress.com
photo by Jannet Serhan, and Isabella and Louisa Fischer (via unsplash)