the space between
what i have and need is somehow,
always just a half size shy. my size cannot be found
it’s somehow, always,
just a half size shy. direct proportions
to the size and weight
of this chip of shit,
i carry on my hip. so sing for us and drink for us. and at the rate of my exchanges,
i’ll never find
the shoes to fit these feet. my size cannot be found
it’s somehow, always
just a half size shy. heels and toes
began to crack and bleed,
they’re stuffed down into
shoes that i don’t need.