I always skip the last step.
It's a matter of doubt
and defiance.
Disappointment,
which deafeningly rings
down to my imperfect toenails.
Skipping the last step
is a step away
from envy and lust.
It's that gray silk screen
behind my head.
Left foot first-
just like dancing.
But only one step up,
then it's counting by twos.
Coming down, the same
as you do when you're high,
onetwo, onetwo, a delicate prance
MUST be bombed into the thousand pieces,
all because, (though it is also why),
I always skip the last step.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 5:50 PM UTC
I always skip the last step.
It's a matter of doubt
and defiance.
Disappointment,
which deafeningly rings
down to my imperfect toenails.
Skipping the last step
is a step away
from envy and lust.
It's that gray silk screen
behind my head.
Left foot first-
just like dancing.
But only one step up,
then it's counting by twos.
Coming down, the same
as you do when you're high,
onetwo, onetwo, a delicate prance
MUST be bombed into the thousand pieces,
all because, (though it is also why),
I always skip the last step.
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