inconsistencies & sexual appeal.

my stomach is sour.
         a shaking uneasiness not quickly fixed by
a pill
or any string of soothing words.

my body is bloating
         far past comfort or sexual appeal or human recognition.

my eyes are shifting
          looking anywhere but straight ahead of me
and finding comfort in dark places where they can forget who I am for a little while.

my existence is tiring,
    tumbling over mixed-up wiring,
fumbling,
and I am gasping for air.