... at the place where his itch is crawling with madness
There, no there, higher, to the left, right, oh...
Dig your fingers in, and scrape, scratch, scroll down
down. Rapt at it, run your digits through, Wow...
There, right there. Do hurry, what do you mean, not found?
Ah! How like the manners of a man being enraptured
There. Where his itch screaming with madness
Ah, like a ball of wool being gathered
gently and slowly, under the deft fingers rolling and rallying
tracing, circling, pinpointing the source of an intense sensation,
His nerves on fire. Argh...
There, almost. Not exactly, yes, yes, keep scrubbing
It's gone. No, it's there, to the left
tiptoeing like a thief. Nail it?