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