Itch Senile

It seems like something insignificant is itching. It itches evilly and persistently. When you don’t touch it, when you just look, it still itches. Only continuous picking helps, and sometimes this nasty thing goes crazy and stops itching. I think that this is one of the last attempts of old cells to free themselves from the changed course of metabolism, in other words, to cleanse the old so that the new can appear. It seems to be like this in all old people, but in the case of senile itching the case is painfully special. And I'm itching stubbornly. The stomach is already full of food, the outflow in the wings is getting worse, the legs are weakening and you already want to throw away your brains, although they seem to produce more exhaust than, say, in the case of the stomach. I itch for days. And I’m glad, but in the end I feel like I’m going to be hysterical, I’m overcome by quackery...