This poem talks about construction. I suppose it is a matter of disagreement with the abstract forms that reveal the current population centers and compare them with spider webs. Moving away more and more from the constructions of traditional houses that respected and gave space to nature.

Through the aluminum alloy walls,
past spattered ceramic to gaze into the midnight streets [...] build miniature cities on their backs

I perceive a concern in the voice inside the poem:

In the distorted snapback, the last vestige
Of a spider's autonomy shatters.

There is a complaint present: how to destroy the virgin nature, the hills full of vegetation and fauna, to replace it with a housing complex full of artifices and cold materials, lacking in life.

Formerly vegetated sentinel,
now a faithful silica column with strung nerves
looking out on the neon life force
strobing invisibly through the mechanical ultrapolis.

¡Excellent writing, @d-pend... Blessings!