the many manys of my days

there are many, many days--too many
where i weave myself this shroud with words that haunt
too many pasts to be considered, too many hours spent
too many manys to be counted or revisited

and there are these days where the manys weigh more than
way, way way more than the air that fills my lungs to live
more more than the words that fill my sentient brain
the letters, spaces, utterances that repeat

there's this or that vision to be reached
wordless thoughts that fill the senses blind
the electric shocking fuzz that wakes me electrified
the many manys longed for that words fail to understand

and just like now my heart is beating fast
the many manys flowing full blast

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