on my sleeve

My convictions are my constrictions,
in a coiled truss of suffocation.
I wear this badge on my sleeve
while i try to fit and weave
through the smoke and empathy
and back to a path of sobriety.

Taken breaths
deep within my shins
are swollen to the trauma
circumstances are circumstantial.
but convictions
are convicted.












Meet Me In A Secret Place
older than this hollow ground