It hurt my eyes to look at the morning drawing bubblegum sheep 'neath clouds clotted pink. And more beyond, but in truth fading out into nothing as lines arrive, outlines, the day pouring in. I am going. I am gone. Lost on a jet plane in that same soupy sky that has cleared into peach. A bee humming, an engine past your ear for an hour colliding with daybreak just out of arm's reach.
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