another project out the door
another time I’ve said

no more

and as I sit and catch my breath
there comes a sense of creeping death
for even though I’ve done my best
placed my work above the rest
crossed the t’s and dotted i’s

standing clear before my eyes
the naked truth won’t be disguised

in the flood of current books
mine won’t entice a second look

so
in a day
perhaps two
I’ll start fresh
begin anew
write some more
it’s what I do

because the world’s unlikely to come through 

and

holding my breath
is turning me blue


tio stib