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| Pigeonholed into sexual desire |
The upholstery feels more like a strip club every day. I'm within a solitary confinement of sexual impulses where I can't tell where ends meet.
“Don't worry about it!” Said Vix, as another show came on. “Be yourself.”
Myself? What when my actions that provoke should not be trusted? I'm a spoilt, couch now, my authenticity ain't to be trusted. Myself is a muddy mess of anxiety, what I'm becoming ain't me, what is it?
This living, I make it what it is. Dancing my assets and not knowing what's right. All for the short term gratification of some potential buyers.
It's hollow, I'm going to lose my mind. Desired, charged and used.