My aglets are wearing thin
from the miles crossed
by the traversing of my soul
rivers run in valleys unseen
and unheard of from the
cockpit of horseless carriages
fair Columbia boasts of beauty untold
ancient Gaia all the more
Psyche prevails
topography of the mind
vast and uncharted with room
for leviathans and behemoths
lurking in the recesses of our soul
my aglet is wearing thin
Jupiter can never measure
Neptune can never fathom
nor Hades bind
the content of my character
I have perceived mysteries unheard
before a quarter past
awake from slumber
your aglet is wearing thin

I was dust on the bottom of your
******* shoe
The aglets of your untied
***** mangled lace
Grinding violently on my
Unnoticed surface space,
And I just sat there clinging to
The part of you , you’d let me see
Wishing to be something.
Seems silly now that I didn’t know
If I wanted to grow up
All I had to do was
Let it the **** go,
Lay on musk moss and dirt
Forget the things I said
About being hurt and hard
Get over myself and see that  
I’m so ******* perfect
Sensational, inalienable and only
Every fool I’ve ever known wouldn’t love me.
My self included sorry.
Maybe I was made to fall apart,
Crumble to dust, spontaneously combust
Die and when  buried  
Discover the seed in the dust
Burst forth in green sprouts
In search of sun rays
After sun rays
Like new growth
After hard rain
Or flowers
Escaping sidewalks chains
Braking through like new days
I have fresh tears
Over growing pains.

have you ever rubbed a piece of chalk on the asphalt

shading some beautiful image

only to be washed away in next tuesday’s rain?

have you noticed how the chalk disappears under your fingers?

imagine the ends of your dna

(it’s a leap, but picture it)

a protective coating

like the aglets of your shoelaces

guarding the fragile building blocks of you

and once those telomeres break down

your dna frays

like so much loose cloth

and your fragile little human copy machine

makes bad copies

that is how we age

beautifully

gracefully

like chalk being rubbed smooth on the sidewalk

only to be washed away

in tuesday’s rain

A sheltered microcosm saved in greys
Abandoned tennis courts behind the shed
Discarded sports cap melty-crinkle sighs
Dark bitumen to amplify the heat
And any sorry hurt that worry-bled

A stomachful of fluffy food forgot
Lone lunchbox waiting courtside for its turn
Now wasting as the cracking plastic tells
Of ground more breakfast than of tennis fit
To fry the egg, then desiccate and burn

Sardonic jesters loudly quiet call
How far away is cool, and further still
Acerbic head on mordant shoulders rests
As pair of caustic, bitter lips impart
The ugliest corrosive acid swill

Sark-wolves emboldened shrinking of their prey
How close is sheepish shame, and closer yet
Apologetic hair, repentant shoes
New fascinating laces, aglets lost
Shy socks serve not to aid, but to abet

Dear deprecants, embrace your rueful flush
Let bashful gloves be padded by this truth
The catch-calls curse less caustic on your soles
Electron-pairs now balanced in their roles
Basic strong since graduating youth

On my way out into the yard (always the yard) I slip over the threshold. Shoes slipped on subconsciously. Imprinted habits stored somewhere unknown. At the cliff below the lip of the threshold a pile of shoes and their rubbery texture break my fall but they’re in the way. They’re always in the way. A tangled bunch of laces, knots and, aglets so much complicated than my pair of flip flops. I consciously step on the pile. Maybe out of spite, anger. With this motion completed, I look down at my own shoes only to see that they’re on the wrong feet. Yet, as wrong as it may seem, I leave them as they are.