you know that it's not worth one minute of your scratching
and turning at night.

you know it will not turn as you revolve in bed
(no turning makes you look away from it),
it won't get scratched when it itches.

it ain’t worth one cigarette you smoke,
one bite of your fingernails
or the chance of getting an ulcer.

and in spite of knowing it,
scratching and
turning and
smoking
is what
you
do.

“if only I had something to hold”, you say,
but you really wish you would let go.