For those of you who are unfamiliar with me...I am Zach! The indomitable, the utterly fabulous Zach!

Read Decapitated Chickens! Keep in mind that this magnum opus holds a great many literary allusions to everything from Nabokov's Lolita to Dante's Inferno, Disney movies to Shakespeare. So if you don't understand something and think it just doesn't make sense...that's probably because it DOESN'T! Mwahahaha!

Ode To Sock

Sock, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul, S-O-C-K, the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at one, on the teeth. Sock. It was S, plain simple sophisticated S in the morning, O in ordinary mid-day. C in case of caryophyllaceous tendencies, K in the kabukaic terms that describe it. Oh gentlemen of the jury, gaze upon this tangle of cotton and mourn, weep your tears and bleed and sweat for it's beauty, artistry unmatched, divine omnipotence.

Like a single house defying the laws of physics and technicolor hats. Oh simple sock, innocent and chaste, sophisticated cliche, tentative fabric lust, your plain yet incomprehensibly angelic beauty.

A single straight square of cloth, rounded at the toe. Pulled by hem and string, slim and lithe thread encircling the foot with a stitch. Toil and trouble being paraded down the street of the tendon, stretched across that childish spot where Achilles fell. Lashing glory being transformed into a funnel shape as the cloth rounds the calf and tied with a cross stitch at the end. Forever closing your highway of beauty to the traffic of humanity.

What is in a sock? It is not a finger nor thumb, nor any other part of a man. No, a sock is much more my dear Juliet. Covered by the shoe, its true loveliness a sunset through shaded glass. But I embrace this collaboration of human and primal perfection, its diversity and animosity all coming together to form...heaven.

Many humans overlook the sock, always hidden by its counterpart. Au pair me and you Sock! I shall be one with you time and time again. No, I cannot become one with that which is only true and unsheathed beauty. Sometimes we all lie awake at night, only to find ourselves sleeping a single minute...sweat across our tinted brow.

A sock goes with all things, little, big, small, diminutive, colossus, gargantuan, tiny. A sock is best in pairs, it can match with a sock of black, white, brown, plaid, purple, red, green, yellow, orange and even blue. It can go with a tinted sock of vermilion, scarlet, crimson, viridian, pea, hunter, aqua, turquoise, rose, sienna and even sepia. A silken slip of fabric that can go with any counterpart. perfect integration and enhancement of diversity. Oh sock, can our species not be more as you! Your perfect and pure heart. Pocahontas, Belle, Snow White, Cinderella, Aurora, Ariel, Wendy, Jasmine, and Alice! Through the looking glass one can see you, unhinged by bending of light and shape. Oh you are my spade card with axe in hand, leading me down to the rabbit hole.

You oh sock with your hidden meanings and true desire, clothed by other article that cannot begin to match you. How I long for your cotton touch, oh celestial woven piece.

Oh creature of God, my tormentor! Stella...no...SOCK! My canto lies upon the ninth hellish ring frozen in place in a twisted pose. Limbs curving into conjunctions that cannot appear human. Demonic contortions you place me in. I am made static by Did, weeping Dis of sad and mute intentions. Three sinners placed upon this trinity of hidden faceted beauty. Yet the sock blinds you in every aspect.

I am only a lamb, you my shepherd...leading me across a plain of grass and dirt, towards Golgotha, my execution site of fur and law enforcement officers. Your perfect testimonial to acceptance, your thoughts making mine a tempest. Oh beautiful and graceful Sock, I am only CALIBAN, disfigured and horrendous slave...only to your love. My labor and sweat making you a more perfect being.

Corpulent sea witch! Your spell Ursula has cast me down in my grotto of a psyche. malevolent intentions ride these tides through geyser and spit alike. Torrent waves of mass emotion hidden by the low and high, yet I feel calm.

The is my, Zachary's, work of art.