Come sit beside me in the dying light

This morning I had a nice chat with my new pet scorpion, Artie. Artie lives in the light cover in my closet. Hunter hypothosises that Artie crawled in through the attic. Poor little fella has been there since Saturday, and can't struggle his way out, no matter how much he tries (Artie out of the light, as opposed to Hunter in the closet). At first, having him there creeped me out, but I'm kind of getting used to him (not that I need clarification for this one, but I guess you could say the same for Hunter, actually).
Anyway, this morning I sat in my Mr. Bubble-infused bath, watching Artie scamper across the light cover in his futile attempts to escape. I've thought to let him out on several occasions, but he IS still a scorpion and chances are that he'll bite me or touch me or run off to some other location where he isn't as easily monitored. I don't know how long he's going to last up there against the flourescent light, but when I'm quite sure he's Artie's remains, then I can take the light down.
Artie's given me a couple of good fake-outs, though. He can stand very still, pretending to be dead. If I weren't more vigilent, he could have fooled me. There's even something loveable about him. As creepy as he is, he has a gorgeous silhouette. Sometimes when I'm chatting with him, it feels like he's listening, empathizing. But if I'm honest with myself, he's really just planning his next move. I've seen it a hundred times by now and everyone tells me how awful he is. I chose to let him stay. I chose to justify our attachment as filler until I get another pet, though, phasing him out, revisiting him each time I need some personal fulfillment, and fooling myself into thinking our friendship is more than one-sided is making things difficult. I knew precisely who he was the moment he came into my life, but I let him win over the smallest piece of my heart and even though I know I can bounce back, the whole thing is making me a little sick. I would have thrown up this morning, but I haven't eaten anything. So Artie scampers, and I watch. Artie wants to leave, but I haven't let him. And the sad thing is, if Artie were to leave and come back to the light, I imagine I'd let him stay a while again.
When you live, as Kerouac said, like "fabulous roman candles exploding" you eventually burn out. This month has been wonderful, productive, record-breaking and dramatic, full of possibilities and I've basically put on a good fireworks show (seven of you in particular know what I'm talking about). But I'm tired. I can only hope some of those embers start a bigger fire somewhere on the ground.