untitled

Weathered my soul has become under this cloud. Not sure what type of cavernous hurt I have. Implied on the binding parts of my life, striking or struck I have become numb to the difference. Leather bounds my expression. Astounding attempts, fragile to one. Lost is needed as the stairs are steep, will the like insisted choose right resenting every plea for broken words. Why do these demons entangle their will. Embarrassed by action & content in not feeling. Their words build me & break me. Friends like poison of the slowest kind. Desperation needs truth. Here I reside hoping not to parish from misinterpreted judgment."

By: Jesse Howard