cannot be who we are
cannot be who we are meant to be
Alyce could be a dress shoe in a ghetto
park in the next shakerz suburb, if there
are such things in her day. but she will be the one
shining, maybe. perchance she gets her chance
for the sick sheen. she is aside, mind, don't forget beside
her head, her bed, looking over, and in from a looking
glass once again? oh dear, she should utter under her
like the new age zombie she brought forth from LeHeigh's
stench. Ren. run. it's now the stench of a gremlin's
yeast, her pet pest with three, no, four, no, just one head
perpetrating from the quadrilles in his spiiiiiIIIIIIINNNNNeh!
[sleepwalking, dear, you are sleepwalking!]
she is a dress shoe. Alyce is she. she is a dress shoe
and the polish from down the street has worn thin.
take pity in her party, that she did, in the mirror
seeing her face worn thin.
[maybe we won't wake her. Alyce, you fun