Gold Bond Medicated
At present, I find myself to be a festering blister on the corned feet of fellowship; on the verge of bursting from the pressures of shoe, sweat, and sock, and the friction bonding said elements to the flesh for as long as there’s a path of dignity to trod upon. With barely a flinch of notice from the rest of what’s moving I’ll soon pop and puss beyond my containment, soaking through the environment which bore me; saturating the presence of body with fresh possibilities, capable of a viral rampage the blood stream would not soon forget; creating a catalyst for the fevered dreams of a morbid motion forced to rest it’s hard-pressed feet in clear waters, and it’s head upon the soft banks of redemption- though a nasty fate shall befall my juices, the active manifestation of our imagination must be pressed to the limits of expectation if we are to ever learn to not be so hard on ourselves; and if we are to ever learn to rest long enough to properly dream our way towards a softer direction.
Listen to thy feet for they are the ones actually steppin’ in it…
Copyright Keli Birchfield 2012