So if I put word down here, what happens? Like Charlie says, it drags down with it all the meanings, connotations, allusions, idioms that have been welded to it. I put my hand under the bed and drag it through the cobwebs there. Clumsy as lead slugs on gossamer. I put a word down, and I can't lift it again. Everything is torn. Just like he said, the criss-crossing wires look like a scratch-out. I'm reminded of the impetuous libidinous penguin.

The trap door spider lines its burrow with silk, and I'm suspended, caught clinging to the walls halfway down. I've been caught in something's throat. I know the threads are torn, but I need to tell you how they feel against my skin.