I can't stand
Smooth sidewalks,
With their smooth skins shedding smoke
Like a deer sheds velvet,
Made up of the leftovers, liquid rocks
Made to pool in little, wooden rectangles -
It's not real.

I prefer the crumbling, the cracked
The spiderwebs lacing up grey arms
Like deep, black veins - granular and gritty
Like the air I take in against my will.
That is the earth I want beneath
My calloused, weary, walking feet
Because then I shan't fear
It fading into emptiness,
Leaving me to fall -
                                                                              A fool.