I don't like it yet, and feel it needs to be changed and added to; bleh. Thoughts?

Ink

So this is what permanence feels like -
to outline the image in my skin,
it seems a scalpel must be drawn,
slowly, across my flesh.

Will this really last forever?

I ask myself as the bone
in my shoulder shudders
under the jackhammer rhythm of the needle.

Now a hook, tugging
at the nerves in my spine;
it seems a wonder
that I won't be able to feel

the ink. Something feels cool
and wet where the scribbling
of a dull razor isn't; blood,
blue dye, I'm not sure.

I roll my shoulders when he's done,
a sunburn of color across my back.