Tied Up

My coats are never clean,
my shirt cuffs frayed
from all the door handles 
they’ve ever caught on.

Dress skirts creased,
jeans thinned at the knees
and stained from all the 
people I’ve ever knelt for.

Holes spatter along leather,
denim too thick to yield,
stitched to hold me in
one place, at one angle;

But it couldn’t hold me then
anymore than it can now.

I paint my outfits with the Earth,
with the drinks I gulp 
and the meals I relish
and the hands that touch me,
like I paint my birth suit,
vibrant with sin, sun-kissed, 
legs home to purple blotches
I never noticed properly and 
face flushed red,
    in anger, 
        in shame,
intoxicated 
by the liquor of life.

~ written 24th July 2025