Poetry

An itchy discomfort

Plate

An itchy discomfort
Coursing through my being
I'm living and growing
So what is this feeling?
What piece am I missing?
I sit to rest with it
But it does not come out
I lift weights and do chores
Until friction breaks down
My old, wrinkly, dead skin
Red and raw, I'm reborn

2026-08-30 · poetry