But i’m pretty much
barely
hangin’ on
by like a piece of flaxen thread—
it’s going to break
any minute
I just know it.

I’ve decided that I’m not barely hangin’ on anymore—
the string has snapped and I’m falling,
falling,
falling through a dark abyss
of one more week.

I land,
where my only chance of happiness
(and of survival) is awaiting
in your open arms.