Dancing with Myself

With disconcerting dread I felt it oozing 'tween my toes

A texture that had me question the barefoot path I chose

And alarmed an olfaction that wafted up into my nose

Making me wonder what doom, I presumed, herein goes

.

Hesitating from one mid-night's footfall to the next

I tenuously stepped into it, mystified, perplexed

On a number line of indignity, when Y preceded X

Where, in the dark, I knew not which steps ahead were hexed

.

Who or what could have left a thing so foul and rancid?

A loathsome load of gradū that somebody had implanted

Or a portal to the devil or other darkness so enchanted

Such splattered splotchure offensive on my itinerary landed

.

I must know the nature and the purpose of this lump that's in my way

For I vowed never to re-encounter such fetid state of decay

How did it get here? Who had placed it here this day?

I must retrace my steps to know how it came here to lay

.

I went back to my beginning, from where I did awaken

And began my traipse to this hapless destiny's occasion

To see why I met the match of my faith-in-God so shaken

In perambulation along the feckless path I'd taken

.

On my forensic investigation I saw and so discovered

Piecemeal disrobings of garments by which someone had uncovered

And clothing clues which had fallen, en route, that I recovered

Much of it not my own, underscoring what I've proffered

.

What had I done — why had it come to this?

This strange trail of a dangerous stranger's aimlessness

Was I this stranger? Unto myself — my shoes fit footsteps' sameness!

Now I saw where I went wrong with a life I thought so stainless

.

My travels' travails left reminders in what ways I wretchedly schlepped

In my trail of tears disclosing where I'd ducked instead of leapt

Of course! That spot, lying in wait to define me whilst I slept

Was of my own making, integrity sold and sworn words unkept

.

Blameless, shameless, and nameless, too

My self-indulgence aimlessly is mocking derring-do

For whether my story is made up or it's seems to ring true

Ask not in whom your footsteps step — they step in you

.

I'd be damned if I'd be the one to deal with that soiled spot

Taking no responsibility, swept under rugs o' s'lipsistic rot

I'll retrace my steps once more to bask in my warm and cozy cot

I shall leave it for someone else to clean up, whether they suspect it's me or not

_______________

I couldn't decide whether this idea would be better presented as prose or poetry, so I did both. End of problem.

Thus, this companion poem for my Tuesday, March 26: Day 86/366 of the Story-a-Day Challenge, "One Step at a Time."

https://vocal.media/fiction/86-one-step-at-a-time