I strap on the shoes of guilt
And shuffle through the ashes of broken glass on the back porch
The shoes make my feet hot and sweaty
They are uncomfortable, constricting
And I long to kick them off and do as I please

But from past experience I know that as soon as I take off my shoes
The frozen liquid will slide into my tender feet
Creating a cacophony of blood and gore
A parody of death with toes.

So I shake off the grains of shame
And continue across the back porch.

06/11/2002

Posted on 06/11/2002
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