DOGS OF SUMMER

Oh, they stink

these feet, they do.

They burn with an unholy stench

of sweat

and sores

and stinkity pooh.

They are smelly and swollen

and they ache to be liberated from their cages

unleashed before a world

unprepared for their terrible splendor.

Damnation occurs

soon

when the days nears its end

and my feet are set free.

The horrific magnificence

will be unbound.

At my command

release the dogs.