bypass the muse - Anger

all my ice falls in tiny beads onto the cement and rolls up with the beetles and dust making some kind of mud at your feet so when you walk i am the ghost on your shoes and when you try to shake loose, the needles start to grow and smolder in your soles where the massager once bore holes as you tried to rub sensation into your dampered reality

bypass the muse

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/anger-32/