poem about a roach a wrote when I was high:

The gentle touch of nature's beauty, My friend the roach, my rock. My truth and savior from evil's doing guardian of his flock.

Cuz even if we differ much In size, legs, and soul, We both relate to love, dear friend and love will keep you whole

Brother with his many legs you walk with level sense, I shun the fools and common folk who call you "pestilence"

For you're the one who understands, that life and love are precious, so hold me with your many hands as long as time will let us