on burning sandals

This footwear's infected, it burns my dermis, I suffer its damaging, poisonous kiss. It's just on the right side, the left foot is fine, at one point I'd stepped on a shiny-leaved vine, or brushed up against a patch of poison oak, that promptly with oils my sandal did soak. I have tried to wash them, with liquid and bar, the next step I think will be clear vinegar, to cancel the compounds that ravage my skin, but if that too fails they'll go into the bin. It is just not worth it, to suffer and cope, to wash and to scrub them with vigor and soap, to try and eradicate chemical traces that lurk in the foam and hide under the laces. Last night I moved into a seedy hotel, these sandals they irritate and itch like hell, the dollars I spent renting a door that closes I could well have used to buy new shoes and clothes. That is in the past though, I have no regrets, I've learned not to hanker or worry or fret, therefore I will change out these horrible shoes, and cease with my endless and woebegone blues.

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