Itchy and scratchy

God, I itch.

When they say it’s all in your head,

Forsooth, this time they are right.

The tympanic membranes

vibrate at a galling frequency

perhaps meant for Fido to hear.

But I cannot scratch

this bitch of an itch.

Scalp over scabbed skull I scratch,

helping along that balding patch.

There…..relief.

(at least, that’s my belief)

But the stuff inside my meathead brain

it won’t be calm, and won’t refrain.

Miles and miles of duodenum.

Fold upon fold, in dreams I’ve seen ’em.


Oh, let me lift my lid now, just this once,

a give a good scratch, stir the stew.

Like that wretched Dr. Finklestein

from The Nightmare before Christmas.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s