Shoe-Shopping

[CRNDLSM]

My Ragged shoes are past their expiration date,            You don't need 'my'
and quickly becoming an embarrassment.                 
 
Nothing more than a bag full of trash
whose seams give out just as you reach the trash bin.    great analogy
Sadistically spewing rotten garbage from a soiled mouth,        rotten garbage, soiled mouth, odorous haze, sadistically spewing sometimes less is more with adjectives
leaving an odorous haze as my insides are scraped off the pavement.   
 
beaten and battered.
but the shoes next to me,
polished and new.      nice comparison
 
Light bounces off of them like a disco ball
speaking with each step, ‘tip-tap tip-tap’    nice personification
 
Suddenly, I’m a new man;         maybe connect these three short stanzas since theyre all about the new shoes
a showman.
 
But, I become nothing more than a twisted ankle dangling below
a bum knee, barely mobile, but unnervingly frantic.    because new shoes are stiff and cut the feet?
Constantly counting to eight, not knowing how to    
save a dying art from the onslaught of heavy-set linebackers. In 'Pitch Perfect 2' the Greenbay Packers sing and dance quite gracefully
 
squeaky and suffocating,
but the shoes next to me
modest and comfy.    revisiting stanza 3 i like it, or is this a third pair of shoes to compare
 
Warmth seemingly radiates from their very soles.
the comfort they offer draws me in like warm cup of  tea.  warmth and warm a little redundant, how about a beckoning cup of tea?
 
Suddenly, I’m a different person;
easy-going.
 
But, I become nothing more than a sloth inching closer to
leaves on a distant tree, and further from the solid ground below.
Hungry for nothing but the passing of time and the generous
hand of another to give me just enough to meet tomorrow’s afternoon.  i really like this comparison, very thoughtful but I don't know what a hand can offer to meet in a day
 
cushy and coddling,
but I know it can’t last,
stagnant and complacent.   
 
I’ve found soup too cold, too hot, but not just right.  nice
but the patch of grass next to me looks lush and vivid.  grass isn't greener, the shoes are nicer, i think you avoided a cliche   
 maybe connect these two, too.  Lots of breaks in a long poem break my concentration with it
Barefoot, blades of grass reach up and tickle my feet.          
Barefoot, twigs startle me, and the ants greet my feet.  whatever you do to this rest of the poem,
Just right.                                                             i think you should leave this last line alone