 |
Algorithm
What is...I did the math,
but answer if off.
And by alot, just
decide what it wants.
What was left behind
becomes more of remainder,
I just get past, every loop hole
in my hand.
A bible of making no sense.
Get pretty close to psycho babble.
Take it as: one plus seven
minus eleven, divided by six
equals
6.16666666667.
Can I know my items...
get back to seven.
or is it only the mere glimpse;
I just don't know where I am
heading when it comes to
eight hundred thoughts
I lost on the way to the
meaning store.
©2000 - 2022, Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors. Visit My Home Page | Start Your Own Poetry Site | PoetryPoem [ Control Panel ] [ Today's Poetry - ALL Poets ] [ Search ]
|
|