I have buckled under pressure
of synapses,
that confuse and measure
the then and now.

I have puffed into a smoke
of silences,
that refuse me to choke
or take a vow.

I have dreamt the dreams
of my violences,
and when I cry
I ask them how...

can you take me back to such spiralling?
When the pain that should have stopped,
was always allowed.