My shoes tell me who I am.
All Day I Dream About Self.
Too blue, blaring eyesore.
A too large tongue stuck out,
a child's cheeky provocation
Foot formed cocoons of sweat.
Soles thinning to sun peeled skin.
Tied tightly with a final knot.
Walks over everyone. Stood on.
Tramples everything. Trampled on.
Treads softly on temporary ground.
The last vestige of the ghost of purpose.
Lift leg, leg lift, repeatedly until worn
into the ground like stumps
of axed Wonder boom or Cedars of God.