Like Pi

As I obsessively search for some trace of a pattern

in the random etches of my life, as I yearn to feel the

comforting touch of some sort of foreshadow, as I

analyze the Freudian nature of my dreams on a scale

of one to lust, as I take note of the number of steps I take,

the number of hours I sleep, and the color of my socks,

as my id asks questions, and as my ego answers, I wait.


One thought on “Like Pi

  1. When the voices in your head start taking apart any semblance of sanity you once called faith in humanity, at least the colour of your socks won’t matter anymore!!

    Great write, all jokes aside I do praise


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