a trivial struggle.

my poetry has turned to shit,
i cannot write.
i feel this, and
i feel that.
i am frustrated by him,
i am sad about her.
my feelings seem to be
best expressed through words,
but no.
not today, not for the
past week and half
have i been able to decently
arrange words that i know
into something coherent
and perhaps even...
MEANINGFUL.

i will concede
that i am not a poet laureate,
nor will i ever be.
i just
have anxiety
over stupid issues,
about the time i
never seem to have, and
the stresses that try my mind;
they are wearing.

i am unhappy with my body,
just the way it looks;
and i will openly admit it
right now!
protrusions here,
folds there--it upsets me.
i do not know what to do!
(now i know,
most of you will tell me to
shut up, but i cannot.)
i am also displeased
with this insomnia i have,
this irregular sleep
that i struggle to fall into.
i blame the anxiety,
this over-active mind of mine
that will never stop with
the most random of thoughts,
and the most spontaneous times.
i feel as if i have no escape
from all of this--
i am trying to find a cure
that quite possibly
does
not
exist.