There is a gouge on the wall I have left after my passing
A serious physical point of contact
No blood nor damage to self
I struggle to slide between boundaries
But I keep returning to my bumpy vertical path
Devoid of fear or compassion
I bounce from left to right
My clothes are blurred
As I struggle to maintain
All I have will not fit in my pocket
But time is slow
My shell is weighed on my back
It shields me from evil docomers
Who attack with no provocation
And wish to feed on my remains
I wish them well
As they digest my stench
For I wished to leave them nought
As they wish to consume me
And I believe they will
Circling around my being waiting to peck at my soul
So I bounce between the walls
And keep moving along the hall
My trips leave me in pain
The bumps have no echo
But they are imbedded in the covering paint that will be reapplied once I have passed
My steps have faded
The noise I have made echoes somewhere else
So I keep diligent attention to my tracks
But I doubt I can ever go back
As I sit upon the can
Painting the bowl withmy waste
And I am happy my bowels filter
But my soul does not as it
Wonders in this realm
It has deserted me
So I labour upwards and bounce shuffle and scrape
Gouging the walls beside me
As I leave my mark
An abrasion of skin and a quick expose' in the dark.