To be mad is to be alive & Lies is a balloon spider

Mad in all the important ways;

the kind of madness that keeps us alive.

Like a sand storm in the desert,

scattering the certainties of direction,

Like the belly of the sea,

roaring, and spitting salt into the sky.

Like a forest fire,

sparing nothing,

rolling out its carpet of ash

for the feet of tomorrow.

Like the earth trembling,

swallowing city's like Jenga towers.

— nothing stands forever.

No one is getting out alive.

And so we learn:

sanity is not silence,

it is permission to break,

to howl with the wolves in our bones,

to weep where the world says we should smile.

Madness is the courage to see what burns,

what drowns,

what falls.

It is listening when the elders speak.

Their voices riding the wind, the smoke and the echo's in the shaking ground.

Screaming;

To be mad is to be alive !

Lies has to many legs to stay in one place
Lies has to many legs to keep up with what is moved in her legs
To whatever moves her legs
They move in different directions
Some legs are tired
Some are restless
Some have cataplexy
Some are pointing like fingers
Some are hiding in the cave of her mouth
Lies her legs seem to multiply
They fall off
She grows new ones
Lies isn’t really a web spider
Unless she’s unweaving
She’s more of a balloon spider
Shooting arrows of silk
Into the heart of lightning

Buzzing

Buzzing

Buzzing

Flying

Lies is a balloon spider
He balloon spider
How about ballooning in circles for a while
How about flying indoors
The roof is your limit
How about reweaving the web you took down
Threads are words
Silk ones are like golden eggs
Weave a nest of story that does belong to you.
Or at least weave a door, or a window, or a chair.
And a kitchen, and leave cookies on the counter.