Laces tout
Laces tout
another pair bought
all tied up
said I'd stop.
Break them in
painful feet
new shoes on
no one to meet.
Bold logos gone
it feels right
not a single marketing
piece in sight.
Stacked up high
worn down low
my map is full
of places to go.
Laces tout
all tied up
another pair bought
said I'd stop.
How many pairs do you own?
If I tell you,
will you leave me alone?
Depends how many?
Is it a lot?
I don’t know the number,
must have forgot.
Surely someone like you should know?
Alright, I’ve got about 10 on the go.
I use to have an excel sheet,
But tracking my consumption made me weap.
Still not heard a number,
just words and cries,
If I gave you a number I would despise,
myself for owning so many shoes,
my fragile ego it would bruise,
so please,
don’t ask me any more.
Goodness gracious what a bore.
Then a bore I’ll be,
I’ve only got one pair can’t you see,
they’re currently tied up on my feet.
Everywhere you look, shoes are left to their demise. A universal sign of emptiness. Sat in a shop window. Sat by the front door. A pair to pop the to shops in. Knock about the house in. Take the bins out in. Kicked off in the heat of the moment. Dangling from a tree. A rite of a passage. Waiting for repair. Caught in a mosh pit. An impatient child. Lost by someone equally as lost. An angry ex. Too far gone. Too soggy for indoors. A drunken night out. A prank gone wrong. Unwanted waste. All without an owner. Unfinished stories. Open endings strewn across the floor.
wear shoes, write poems 