Thoughts tangle.
I trip inside.
An abrupt disrupt,
Attempted temptations
Collide with Puritanical
Whispers in my marrow
From ancient stern-lipped marms.
Harnessed and restrained,
My instincts choke,
Wane and die.
Only their ghosts remain,
Ricocheting within.
Beyond the Skinny Branches 
“I trip inside”. I relate to so much of what you write. The struggle is real.
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Glad to know I am not alone.
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Thank you for letting me know you connect.
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