The skin is the living organ that we forget
even as we stare at it in a mirror
Mine has taken to acts of willfull motivation,
Itching in correlation with my desire for a nap.
Ugly screaming like an alarm clock,
When I hesitate to get up again.
A crawling, tingling itch.
My, “Accompl-itch Something” alarm.
Yes, I went there with the wordplay.
Because it rings true.
I feel no tingling when I research,
No tingling at meals,
No tingling when I practice sketching,
Or pet the cat.
Even when I stop to meditate,
No a twinge of an itch interups that.
But, dare I sleep for sleep’s sake,
That small area of an itching heel, starts blazing
And like any fire it will not cease without full attention and effort
And I cannot stand prolonged
stillness in the light of day