a headache born in the middle of my back, crawls its way up the left side of my neck and lays its egg deep in my skull, with a throbbing resonance, harsh pain that I blame on getting old and working on planes when I should be writing something somewhere with all kinds of pleasure and maybe once in a while little pangs in my fingertips and the occasional horror of not having anything to write about or not finding the right words to tell the tale of the thing that must be told
i
am
falling
apart
waiting
to
be
reborn