Will you hold my hair while I purge the last million years of this life I've been living,
While fossils and artifacts of eras and epochs long gone dislodge themselves,
While I discard the drama queens that flock to me like mosquitos to the glow of suburban streetlights in late August after shredding them like paperdolls,
While I scour the cranial vault of aborted manuscripts for literary stem cells before burning it all down,
While history books of mistakes actually learned from go out with the empty bottles because learning is useless when others are involved,
While the notion that maybe we are all just some bizarre Venutian last chance cools unlike the planet,
While I make a landfill of time and space and material,
Making sure that all the while I don't wobble or fall as I banish the bacterium and viruses of what was and what has been,
And be there with a cup fresh water from the now once I'm done?