counting down
unnamed urge
of fists of fights of flights
in dreams in sleep that cuts out of me
this blur into white
in nights that merge
into days that merge
into a stream a decreasing
count of
tomorrows
get me
while
iridescence
go and ride a thousand days, my clear-eyed messengers, scour all points of the compass and find me a glimpse of iridescence for shining guidance into the unknown on the day that I die
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