 |
| Footstep-weary, treading
wine from bleeding hearts. Lame with lies and prince-less tragedy, patience has seen better days. Drowned boots are full, feet soaked in disarray, hopeless muddy victims become sludge between bare toes. Centrifugal debris swirls, |
| spills over sodden leather.
Translucent flesh crawls into palest hue, seeks broken glass for light relief. Today I�m taking off these boots to walk on grass. |
| *image: Beverly Kleinjan |