molts

surviving
getting by
surviving
looking back with the twitching
serenity of a cockroach
it's been quite the journey
through ladies' perfumed beds
and over-bright psych sanctuaries...
strange, strange places to be sure
but a plate of ravioli
and a scavenged 2nd cup of coffee
is close enough to a cure
and after my wonted pacing
of the rose-hued carpet
we take seats in a circle
and prompted by counselor roach
we tell tales
of the monster floods
poisonings
scores
and torn financial sails
of the antennaes we've loved dear
of how zooming shoes inspire fear...
and over time when lives are told
we see our shells have gotten old
more a hue of death than gold,
simply weren't what we could have grown
if only we had known...
but now's another night
a dead mouse begs us to bite
and we prepare to shed
the ugly shell that got us
through past treacherous nights