Contrary to popular belief, there is a way out. Philosophically speaking, we are far too          dependent on the toxins that massage our pores and ask us to trust that all will be well… in the end. But they are in fact…the end. They tantalize and then enslave, until who we ARE supposed to be becomes who WERE supposed to be. I am orange and furry for  a        reason.  All has not been revealed, but I have it on good authority, that I will embrace the day of reckoning. There is welcomed activity inside, that is why my capillaries fill with all that  is vibrant and red. It is colorful for the inauguration. Still…I am conflicted when the smug become technical. The morbid shade of blue that supposedly flows within the elastic tributaries of life is nothing more than the poor optics of unrepentant confinement.  Yet     in the case of the horseshoe crab, all lifeforce does in fact pump blue. Who can argue with that sense of duality? There is creativity and contempt within every strand of damp fur that wraps around my diligent tongue. What I am unable to separate, finds its way back home again…drawn to what sustains, destined to begin the next time the clarity glows         and ripens in the wind.  But my structure has a role, unrepentant,  it pushes me eagerly         towards the light, until my skull thumps hard against the brim. We all bruise easily, novelty is often clumsy, ego loves to tuck us in.  Or maybe it is time to step into my new shell,             chasing my tail until my oxygen glows red above my skin.  Either way, I  leave my friend in good fortune, scurrying amongst the blue that confines the shade, looking closely I can see the crab almost grin.