My worn chucks
Seem to be on the recluse
Concealing themselves
From my perverted gaze
Lacking in pigment
They are nowhere
Within reach
From both my
Paper cut lined
Fingertips
And the arms
Of my poisoned brain
And no other soles
Seem worth
Grasping
So I will just stand here
In this minuscule ocean
Collected on the
Gloomy cement
Of the cracking sidewalk
My socks growing
In density
And sticking
To the roof
Of my soles
And there's no point
Escaping the puddle
For another one
Is bound to appear
Simply stated
My socks are damp
In the middle
Of the fluorescently lighted street
And I'm stuck gazing below
Into another mirage
Wishing I had
Found my invisible shoes
——
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