my feet do not know,
when mud and dirt is slung on them,
which way to go

there is only that one where water is clogged
uptill the knees
and i feel like i can swim across an ocean with you

in the midst of cigarette butts dancing in puddles,
my feet want to imitate their movement
but i am stuck in the swamp

of my mind, which surpasses the assurance
of cemented roads
always almost touching the skin of my feet

the closer to the ground i get,
the more scared i am of losing it
perhaps the reason you hold still is that you wear boots

the shedding skin of my feet tries hard
to renew, rebuild the hold
while i only end up feeling vulnerable

like the snake whose newly exposed scales shine
with all the dirt nicely seeped into it,
so when you tell me that you'll make it all go away

touch my skin and stop the shedding
i believe you, i believe you with all my heart
but my selfish feet ask for more