There is an urge
to feel
the texture of days
between my fingers
soft, firm, a bit slimy, or just slippery
like grains of sand
and then
after a proper assessment
put them in the bins
marked dark, desolate, normal, or gay
for tomorrow when I call
my horse whisperer
she would ask how
I have been doing lately and
decide on my pills for upcoming days.
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