What's the probability of probably?
Is the square root of attraction,
You and is the variable me?
You're wicking me out,
All my facts start to feel like fiction,
And 2+2 is starting to look more like you.

My mind’s fracturing into repeating patterns
Patterns of life and words I do not know
People I have yet to see
Breathing in equations and out various numbers
Numbers with no meaning
Sparse and erratic

Splintering sentences and irrational answers
Decimals
Quotients
Products
Products that cannot be expressed
Quotients that can never possibly be fathomed
Decimals to infinity
Never repeating
But repeating that same set of numbers
1 through 9 in every shape and form
Spiraling into the abyss

Unifying everything
Yet moving so fast
So far
That it all falls away
Quantum mechanics
General relativity
Are nothing in the face of this infinite knowledge
Infinite numbers
Infinite death
Death to these hands
Death to these atoms
Death to every particle of light that collapsed from a wave
Death of the universe

Death of me

Can people change? That's one of the hardest question I've stumbled upon.
I've seen so many people change throughout my life.
My parents, my family, my friends.
Everybody's changing.
But when i look into a mirror, i don't just see glass that reflects light.
I see such an unchanged math problem that we might known as constant.
I see, myself.

Being constant is not the same as being consistent.
It's not a wordplay that everyone could mix it up.
Those two not even homophones.
Being consistent is sometime a thing that we could be proud of.
And yet being constant is
an illness that I haven't find the cure of.

I'm not saying that it's uncurable.
What I'm saying is
I'm sick of it.
I'm sick of being an unchanged variable that doesn't know how to change.
I'm sick of being a constant that is easily scratch out in a derivative.
Who are scared of the slightest change that eliminates.
I'm sick of being a constant that is negligible during a definite integration.
Who are disposable when the such circumstances are known.

All I'm saying is,
I'm sick of being a constant.
And for now,
I want things to change.

I had cookies after lunch
I had it, to tell myself
I could do it
I could eat cookies
and not think about the numbers
I could eat cookies
and not stare into the toilet bowl
I couldn’t do it
I looked into the toilet bowl
Reached into my mouth
And pulled it out
With slow and painful shoves
Though slow,
The way it happens
Is expedited
But it’s not enough
It’s never enough
The inside of the toilet bowl is stained with regret
The inside of my guts are still full of regret
But I cant get it out
It stays
I couldn’t do it
I don’t know when my food
Started tasting like regret
And looking like numbers
I miss how it made me feel
When my parents got me a donut
The smell of the warm bread
The feel of the chocolate between my fingers
I could eat 2 at once
And not give it a second thought
All 2 donuts are now
Is 500
500 too many
500 more of regret
I don’t want to think about the numbers
On the scale
Of my food
The number of scars I’ve painted on my thigh
I’ve never preferred math

Sometimes one plus one isn’t two.
Sometimes you
Look
At a person with things
That don’t add up, wondering
Where they took
The excess from.
Because sometimes one
Can skip the work, have fun
With threes
(Sounds familiar to me).
One becomes two
While you lose some value.
So maybe
Two plus zero can equal three
When skills rub off
Accidentally.

——> %&#@ $
     777⁷ ☆ ■○°▪︎□ – ¢
          *¿°  ₩¥€ £
            

If he's a she
& she's a he,
& y + x
is race + ***,
& men on Mars
obsərve the stars,
& Wuhan's flu
was made for you,
what is the price
of tea & rice
in China if
your neck is stiff?

I ask you, what is math?
What are equations?
Factored life.
I charge it is living,
Senseless pained observations which we must make
So as to live another day, so as not to perish early
And die before a just time;
The degrees of life are right.
Man must stand *****, stiffen your spine,
But remain relaxed.
Straighten out your ethics, your morals;
Never forget from where you came.
Your ancestors, this planet.
That you are just in another herd.
No really different than any other animal,
Only in our intelligence.
Which is itself, a gift.
So give thanks to mother nature.
She could use it

In the Bitcoin mathematics
The equations work just right
They add up perfect every day
And they do the same at night

Adding data to the Timechain
Like clockwork, line by line
A ledger of all transactions
And it always adds up fine

Yes, the Bitcoin mathematics
To adjust the block creation
Keeps it close to six per hour
Though spread across all nations

And the math for bitcoin halving
Is elegant, exact, and true
It keeps the issue limited
Which adds up for me and you

Trust the math and trust the code
As Bitcoin keeps on growing
The equations add up neatly
So our money keeps on flowing