By the Numbers

Flirting with idea of it.

Conversation to consider it.

Sketching out the aftermath,

making judgement calls with long-term division.

Adding the right components to comprehend the feeling,

playing chicken with an urge that has its gaping maw open,

whispering sweet promises with its rotting teeth.

The mailbox is hosting dust in a forgotten corner.

No one purchases tickets to a sinking ship.

Wanting to love a soul daring to approach,

but the sea floor has been cleared for the collapsing.

Approving the ending.

Accepting the isolation.

Memorizing the phrases

to line up the expected paper trail.

It will be a logical loss for me to bear,

but I swear I’ve done the numbers and there’s no need to care.

There’s only one man that needs to step over the edge,

and down with him goes the baggage you’ve all tried to carry.

At the bottom of every rift the memories will sag under the plates of being,

as the fabric of every life transforms,

ending up in a place they weren’t at before.

I was the flaw in nature’s plan,

sticking my wrist into the wheel to grind future to a halt.

I’ve gotten tangled up and used the pain as a crutch to justify my self-abuse.

If the edge is near and the mast is dipping below the surface,

it’s the only answer that makes a shred of sense:

Subtract that which holds you back and become greater than you were before.

Trust in the soundless slip to silence.

Eyes are never upon me.

Keep their stare on a future.

Trust in the soundless slip to silence.

Eyes are darting away.

Avoid the perpetual drama.

Trust in my soundless slip to silence.

Eyes are



as it slips

to silence.

( ❤ Mitch)