Between the crevasses of toes

Weird poem, then again, weird idea.

---

Sometimes he stayed in the shower too long,
not to get any cleaner, he
had been clean for nearly fifteen minutes now
by the general sense of the word
for no one can really, totally erase
those little bits of sand and
stains, between the
crevasses of
their toes

The faucet silver and the water cold,
but it began to heat up, and
soon he felt the scorching heat and pressure new
that became one sense, one sense alone
shshshshshsh-shashashashasha
ah-awe-ah-awe-ah-awe-wash
in between the
crevasses of
your toes

The salty grine and windswept sweat flaking,
falling to the dead-skin floor as
the snake's old cage replaced by freshly-laid silk
and rattling pebbles come crashing down
to join the sea of past-selves gone on-by from
that place he once wished to hide
in between the
crevasses of
his toes

But heat too must lose itself, and becomes cold
and vanishing, must now replace
With passion, solemnity, with fire, stillness
and garnish all space in sterile air
for no one can really, totally escape
for too long, anyway, the
solemn space in
the crevasses
of toes

And without the pounding shawl of water-fall,
he hears the city and the snakes,
which only serve to accentuate
the solemn space placed
within the crevasses
of toes

-------