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The souls of my shoes
The fingers of a glove
try to hide all that I feel
The long strands of dark black hair
The rejection of it all
The pollution in the air
Lives and dies only to conceal
Leathers and chains - denim, lace
Designed to contain, & to warm
This cold & lonely chase
But it fails. It all fails.
Words that hug in eerie embrace
Sounds illustrating escape
But to where?
This is how it is done?
Well excuse me if I appear too......feeling.
I haven't seen a really good sacrifice
in a long long time.
Must I be required to apologize for my love?
An unburdened sigh and heads turn.
A full hearted dive into the perverse, & the absurd,
& all it can provoke is a dance of strangers,
& a tear to my eye.
- The souls of my shoes
The fingers of a glove...