#math poems

I take a census in every room I walk into

but when it all comes down to deliver

I forget how to count.

Math is meaningless unless you have something to figure out,

and i could never tell you what my issue was.

Word problem:

You have 10 seconds left to love her

but numbers mean nothing

to a man with no means to an end --

I am perfect. Like an even number in an equation

I am the result that everyone would love,

but now?

I feel like an uneven number.I exist yet useless.

I cant be divided without being the result of a decimal or a fraction,

Nobody likes decimals neither fractions.

The measure of an angle is determine by the degree of rotation needed for the initial side to be one with terminal side. The initial side yearns for the closeness only the terminal side can provide. The amount of rotation needed to bring them together can be positive or negative depending on the direction  and degree of separation.

By JM Hillman

(For Alexandria)

Emptiness that lasts forever Salts the wound, eternal I am awaken to a wintering You were there too My whole world was light Until inside was without Communicator made my frozen-knees Not happy in a situation Knows the rope so well Exhausted in perpetuity Everything a bore So take off Flowsnake Break off

i once wrote that i would

like to find love before i die, but!

in the same manner my bucket list,

was scrapped clean, when twelve was the age for cynicism.

though i'd never quite given up

i would've rocketed the universe for our intersection point

still would. in straight lines, and i wonder, if my 

Lack of CAPITALISATION would have driven you CRAZY

in the same manner that i thought i would have caPs. 

but after all, i was only ever significant enough for italics,

that my plainness couldn't afford the extravagance

of clean cut lines on my face, its retraced complexion is

a miasma reeking of s,s-haaak-ky insecurity, too.

in the same manner i believed that love was synonymous with psychokinesis

i have one more question, though,

if love is tan perpendicular to rad, what was our curlicues?

when my love poems never quite sealed off a sphere

i simply erased them from my arms (lightly traced with a set pencil bow compass, either way)

and that day my pencilled messages disappeared

in the same manner we both folded into an infinity

today i am still looking for you

and i will scour the universe to grab hold of your hand.

i will be the parallel line that meets you

- though we might be punished for perpendicularity - 

when i realised that i was never a semicircle waiting for completion,

i've been itching for the croix our lives should have