I scratch itchy skin,
thinking of lepers losing
pieces of themselves.
Psoriasis
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I scratch itchy skin,
thinking of lepers losing
pieces of themselves.
We longed for The Mist
and 1408 like kids
dreaming of Christmas.
Idea of early
to bed rare as a rainbow
and just as fleeting.
All day my eyes itched
as if they were allergic
to viewing my life.
You’ll never again
feel pain, joy both at once. Be
so at odds with life.
When you unburden,
you hope listeners will care.
Yet some could care less.
Every day with
words I pin down bits of my
self for all to view.
My husband says he
catches up on my life in
my blogs. We should talk.
I cook mornings so
I can eat evenings. I call
it planning ahead.
Write about ’em and
stats go up. I try not to
let this affect me.