A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A PAIR OF TENNIS SHOES--messaged to candycrier for transcription via extrasensory channeling

PREFACE by candycrier

I was unable to ascertain if the tennis shoes were referring to a male or female wearer.So, if any of you have a foot fetish, use  your imagination for happy enjoyment. There was a little static sometimes in the channeling waves so maybe something was lost. Also instead of one shoe speaking, both spoke in unison at the same time. Don't ask me why. All of us know, of course, that tennis shoes don't talk or speak.  But they certainly did on this occasion with the help of telepathic forces I am confoundedly and lamentably unable to explain. Furthermore, I decided to put this post in the erotic category because I feel it has faint erotic overtones. Nothing hardcore here, folks. Sorry. This is a no frills faithful transcription the way the message was exactly  piped to me via the extrasensory world.I've already contacted the guys at The Guinness Book of World Records, and hope this phenomenal happening will be included in their 2016 edition.


NOW THE TRANSCRIPTION:


A DAY IN THE LIFE OF
A PAIR OF TENNIS SHOES

"This morning
the wearer
is at the usual
tennis courts
madly chasing and
hitting the returning
ball while we breathe
most whisperingly and
fend off wearer's stumbles
with our latest cushioned
stride.

Later, our loosened
spaghetti-like laces
force wearer to genuflect
in a crowded store.

After that,
our perfect fit
and tie-ups give
wearer zephyr wings
to start a weightless
jog.


Eventually, a stillness
like wild children reprimanded
suggests wearer could be seated
enjoying a snack or espresso.
Or perhaps is in the
ancient posture of relieving nature.
We feel feet occasionally
splay in pleasant searching
roominess.

Next we feel vibrations
of our brothers and
sisters swarming around
us in pitter patter
which suggest wearer
might be at the post office
or a carnival.
We rarely feel
alone because we
are a pair
but sometimes
it's nice to get
in a little socializing
like that.

Near sundown
wearer's toes stand
almost vertically
on tiptoe as if wearer were
executing an aerobic
stance or more likely
kissing a lover's lips;
many nervous wanton
positionings cause our
tongues to wag
in embarrassment.

Few stompings today
we call earthquakes
when wearer must
destroy or remove
something impeding
our soles.Few, except
at one point wearer removes
one of us, turns the one upside down
and shakes it like a motherfucker
(excuse language)to dislodge a
rolling pebble.  Other than that no
surprises. We always hope and pray
for no imprisoning chewing
gum arrests.

We assume we're on
the bus ride home
when we feel vibrations
of what must be the deep humming
and loud gear switchings of
mechanical works wearer is hearing,
but which our thick hides are deaf to.
We often wish for eardrums    
and a larynx.In fact,look at us
long sometime. Don't you fondly
see something like two deaf mutes
there before you?

At home unshod,
we are set on the
floor. The familiar
universal stench of
humanity's feet rises
from our warm innards
like wavering flames."


--end of transcription--dated May 20, 2015 at 2:11 pm PDT--