0 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34

It got old fast. Bureaucracies in orphaned underwear. Until I realized I should stop counting. Let the ratios take their oath. It's just a path. A bridge made of men. Over shallow waters. Equality is inherent to all beings of want. Pigs. With bacon in their bellies teasing the butcher. Pork on a turning spit.

He said he couldn't remember, but I was certain that he did. The locks on her waist coming undone. Thousands of tiny prisons in her crotch erupting with freedom. The gods on her heels compacting the mud where she had walked. Drawing a map for the the Devil to pursue her. Liberating the atheism.

The man in his orbital pants. Evolving. Before science could stop him. Tangential bastards. On the cusp of their mother's womb. Trying quite hard to crawl back inside her.

Failed by the abortion. The salt takes its drive. The pad corrupted. The portion lost. The devious pen. Too many numbers. Long division of moments too short. As if we are anything the world might remember.

Take the math. In discordant agendas. We still are the sum. Of everyone around us. Turn the circle. Sacrifice the center to find the edges. Foul the flesh with algebra. Unknown variables and passing constants. Know that the ratio is close, but not quite golden.

Draw the maps across open wrists. The suicide is contrite, but the reason remains relevant.

In a world where everyone wants to know how much further.

All I want is to know how close we are.