Stifled

back into a corner

playing footsie with the antithesis of success

lopsided smile

all the way down





There's a kind of lightness to these days,

lost in addictions,

comfort in decay.

I am still a creature of habit,

underneath true compassion

lies nothing.





Clutching at straws

banged up knees

faded mind approaching something far away

Loaded up with (this) circuitry

a spinal alien feel