Eat it up.
feed on the garbage...
Maggot.

Pretty girls make graves.
You're the one for me, Fatty.

The Itsy Bitsy Spider

Sleep is a terrible commitment. Sleep admits defeat. To be tied to sleep and caught and choked and held to it... is an unsettling idea. Sleep is competition. The knots it creates are at odds with mine. Detangling is detaching. Detaching is crucial in this escape. To be freed from the bonds I've fastened is frightening, but impossible without permission. I enjoy navigating the twists and snags almost much as their production.
Weaving crossgrain on my tapestry, I look at the threads and I smile. I tie off. My part is finished. I wonder what others will come up with. A smile crosses my face again. No one out weaves the spider. To sleep is to surrender. Handle my fabric carefully. Spiders sometimes bite. It's tough to tell what stays awake spinning while a pillow is beneath a head.
Fingers stiffened.
Eight legs above.
Oh, if only I had more appendages like my friend the spider... so much more work could be done!
Alas, I must finish each task one by one, sharpening pins and needles is always so difficult when I find someone on them.
Sweet dreams my friends.