(Note: I’ve always enjoyed smoking. Do I feel deprived? Yes. Do I feel good about stopping? Yes. Euphoria comes and goes. It’s an insidious addiction.–jrs)
My skin crawls off of me
and disappears into the outlet
just above where my computer plugs in.
I watch my muscles twitch
as they try to hide from the light.
My blood and viscera,
not wanting to make a mess,
stay in place to feed,
to maintain, my deeper sinew;
an internal siren warns me that my skin
had better come back soon.
It does come back,
oozing recharged from another outlet,
but has to try a couple times
to get itself back on properly.
Relieved, I accept its apology.
(top: acebuchblog.es; bottom: beautifuldecay.com)