I should be a salamander. To be exact in slime, to frolic along the mud river bank,
salivating sticky ooze, snatching flies with my tongue.
A delight-full cockroach dinner about eventide,
then slither into somnambulant joy in a crack in a drowning log.
But, alas, I am just a garden snake, slithering in the grass.
Swallowed in the nightmare of dragons. Peril unleashed in terror every moment.
But there is justice in mercy. And dreams are wicked digestion. – Sinz