The Itch

I crave a zipper
from forehead to navel
easily yielding
so I might slip from my skin
like water
through a sieve.
I seek a means
to peel my skin in measured strips
until it lies like petals
at my feet
to be blown away
by the wind.

There is an itch
that makes me want to rip it off
or kick it away
like a blanket
too hot and cloying.
I need out,
But I will settle
for away


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