Van Gogh's Shoes

Tread I trod, until forever I must
Spilt iron for every lone pace let fall
Tongue tasted metal cannot ever rust
Leather tears trifle, a weary sole’s thrall.
This muted tone throne I own
A tapestry of pain brutal be sewn

Grandfather clock, do you ever run short of thread?

Atropos, twisted beauty, calloused hand
Take mine, for naught is oxygen
In a prism poisoned sky
We all drink crystal, broke to shy
Suffering, the spoke's still hot
Suffocating, tripping over rot
The disheveled revel in getting to choose
Would that I wore Van Gogh's shoes

~poedox&paroem