I pluck hair out of my head,
have been for weeks.
Real depletion. mind has been dead for days.
So I say, let the weepers cry another day.
Ill catch myself
the mind that falls.
Ill swing my arms before she breaks.
Oh I will,
I always do or will this be the last towel with shit smeared across it.
the last hair plucked the last tobacco chewed. the last screenplay to finish.
Ill catch him, I always do.
finish the damn deed, write and write and breathe.
Copyright © Frank Guglietta | Year Posted 2014