Something Itching to Come

The angst is biting mites today, 

leaving blazing sores, 

small but cumulatively painful, raging.

Yet, the promise unknown …looming.

A gift encircled in the inverted telescope?

My bones marrow in distant headlights.

A missive, visitor or opportunity,

Something approaches.

Ah, but absorption sucks it dry,

sponged back in the dull hum lethargy.

Only a fleeting prick of moment.