The Reptile House

I haven’t been sleeping
well, staying up too
late slithering in
place. I haven’t
been eating well,
unstable calorie
intake: consume,
digest, rest,
recuperate.
Simultaneously
salivating for
sustenance and
starvation.
I haven’t been
taking myself
seriously, falling
prey to the prayers
of my tricky old ways,
tempting fruit and fate,
flicking my tongue about
in my mouth to complain.

I’ve acted
weird and, at
times, fierce.
But lately I’ve
been too scarce
to be feared. I
haven’t been
feeling well,
seeing my ghost
turn inside out.
I don’t know if
I’m deteriorating
or aging. Or crawling
free from myself.
Inside is softer
somehow younger.
Outside itches
like it isn’t
mine. So
now what
am I?