Get out your shoehorn

A tad bit on the angry side. 'I’m ready to walk all over you.'

Get out your shoehorn,


I’ll wear you like tight shoes
that pinch my toes,
press against the corns.
You'll keep the fungus alive
that gnaws my flesh from bones.
My toenails are already ridged,
yellowed, turning inward.
Green pus marks the pain.
So lend me your shoehorn.
I’m ready to walk all over you.


Kåre Enga © 2005
(161.1132) 7 mars 2005

A tad bit on the angry side. Am I telling it or showing it?