Belly Aching

The body devouring itself
Is not a pleasant neighborhood
To be aware of living in.

Everything feels dirty and stained—
Feels, not appears. Appearances
Never make things so difficult.

Life needs better oblivions—
Drugs or religious disciplines
That leave one painlessly alert

So that as one turns inside out
One could choose instead to observe
A particularly fine sunset

Over the collapsing ruins
Of whatever body is doing.