pas un pas

within a mixture of heels where ankles bend and toes distend, the souls begin to grin and grind and they become a sound, a plea, the criers cry aloud and louder than they had before. their requests, all transient, i hear thereof, and sink. when morning spins them back again, their heels will click as they retreat. they run, they sing, they play a game with esoteric rules and never any spectators, but while i watch i play along. then the thoughts come, unnecessary, unappreciated, under cautious conscious and weighty bondage. (record) null (stop)