An Itch
An Itch
Trapped within the whitewashed walls
Of a room with only iron barred windows
Mere peepholes act as conduits
To the outside world
I can't scratch it
So it grows
Into a harried, monstrous thing
A far cry from what it once was
A mosquito turned vampire
Screaming for a drop of blood
To quench its long parched tongue
As it watches people walk on by
An idea
An itch
An obsession
A twitch
An uncontrolled intellectual
Spasm that can't be dealt with
Until it's seen its way through
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