itch

i scratch out my senses

i weed out all of what i know
and knowing
what i want

do you remember
when you would stay up with me
talking
even though you had to be up early

you made it clear
that the payment was stiff
and
what i got
i counted in
comaraderie.
and
what you got
you took
in spite

i walk the tight rope
every night
alone
above our bed

i wave a flag
i pronounce a truce

i scratch out my senses

i pretend that i’m not here

i produce a world
in which i can live

without