This is a passionate prose collection of dark thought and poetic utterings.
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Driftin' through the thrift boutique, I laid my eyes on em' Nothin' distinctive—they were tatty, russet, and threadbare Cracked soles had expired long before the leather waned Nonetheless, they pulled and heaved at my egg-shaped oculars Eyelets watching, selecting, evaluating, weighing, soliciting my curiosity A pair of loathsome loitering loafers, giddy to flap their tongues To spill the spiel blanketed in antiquity
Duo, impregnated with many sordid secrets of a man Who had possessed them, one who had died
They shuffled with alarming glee Having found a singular audience captured by curiosity My hand juddered reaching out to them They sang sweetly, slip us on, and come see They explained Bane is our cordwainer We desperately want two cozy new hosts Apprehension gave way to inquisitiveness
I gazed upon the dust outline on the shelf of that decrepit duet Almost about to slip them on, sixteen eyelets smiled in reprehensible elation I asked who did you belong to before? They stated don't worry your piggy's about those unimportant details But know he acquired the most delicious adventures we could fabricate, you can too
In that moment, alarm crept up my spine like a spider stalking a moth Rapid ponder, putting back this menacing pair
