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