SOH: (Sins over Humanity)
CAH: (Chaos averts Hope)
TOA: (Truth obliging Ambition)

Find the triangles within our hearts.

i. (lights)
paper lanterns
floating through the sky
halloween evening.
stars.
street lamps.
you are, you are, you are(...)
(bitter tastes are filling my mouth
but the acidic poison makes my tongue glow
glow glow in the dark.)

ii. (mathematics)
one plus one is two.
a real number.
me minus you is an imaginary number.
(it doesn't exist, but someone created
a way to make it exist.
i'm forced to exist
without you
by the rules of life.)

iii. (truths)
******* hell.
you are a baby bottle boy
and i'm a pacifier princess
we can't both be in the same place
at the same time.
*(maybe i'm wrong)

"Dad, can you Google a sum for me?"
the protagonist cries
and an echo of classrooms
and chalk dust
and taste of sour milk
grab my senses.

I remember the grey days stretch
as we carefully drew out three quarters
of an upturned box placed
carefully over a number
too big to count on our fingers.
Then we pulled each digit apart
like legs from a spider
until the monster was tamed
(or break-time arrived).

I pretend to use the Internet
and explain.
The wisdom did not directly come from me
and it pacifies.
Later:
"...and for frequency tables
the teacher tells us to use calculators."
she concludes, incredulous
there was ever any other way.
And I am as ancient in her eyes
as Henry Briggs was to me at her age.

Why would you say that?
I know it's maths
but to say "that 3% of the population are gay that's one in the class.
Who do you think is the ***?
Let's find 'em"
is not appropriate.

You didn't realise
that 3% was sat in front of you
feeling like they can't come out
because of people like you
who talk as if they're bad
like you're going to beat them down
verbally or physically.

You don't realise that people are afraid
to say who they are
they feel as though they're shamed
because of who they are.
It's people like me under your verbal attack
and everyone else questions
why you would say that?

She differentiated herself from society, thinking that her life would never intersect with another's.
Her irrational thinking was harmful, she called herself odd.
"Think positively" they said, "the outcomes are countless.
Life is nonlinear, it's not as simple as x=y.
It may not always make sense but you will make it add up."
She had no proof.
She hated the sine wave of life, her countable infinity that she wanted to stop.
The probability of her meeting her congruent mate was 7,000,000,000:1
Until the day her life was bisected by a girl.
The girl was her complimentary angle, her stationery point, her happy infinity.
She was integrated.

Everything feels automatic and fixated
I've found an algorithm to help me mindlessly move through time
I've found a way to **** time-
Because I don't know what to do with it
By the time I have, I won't have enough.

And I'm thinking of you -
while studying maths -
I wanna say hi,
but it will just make things harder to bear,
as I realise you've finally moved on...

And well,
*I haven't.

I love maths
it proves that we were
just another mish mash
of geometric nonsense
refusing to accept
that you were a square
and that I was a circle
and that organic movements
do not match
with corners
and straight lines