Itch

This urge to scratch the
Itch on the other hand,
Bite nails and chew the
Hardened skin around them.

The itch on the thighs, and
Around the groin and the ass.
The itch around my head,
Because of too much hair
And entangled thoughts.

The urge to scribble on the
Margins of books because
Of the itch in my mind
That just keeps saying
"Why not?"

The itch of lust hiding in
The pretense of love and
The want for love that
Wants to scratch but never
Gets a chance.

And the itch of the
Stomach of course that's
Not confined to the usual
Roti-Kapada-Makan.

And then the itch of bigger
Ambitions that have
Tentacles spread across
Far-fetched horizons
To have it all-

Like the one to dig tunnels
In search of a meaningless
Light and when found at
The end of it.

Sit there waiting for the
Moths to test the validity
Of it, as there's also a itch
That thinks it might just

Be a mirage.