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Click hereIt's the snap decisions,
your binary code,
internalized, like
the cosine compression of the morning commute,
your intricate matrices.
Unwashed dishes and
laundered clothes,
divided, sorted, and
neatly folded
as we contemplate particles
and existentialism.
I lie at the axis,
languid-lazy-turning,
completely irrational
as I solve for
rhythmic patterns
and gilded ratios
in this exhausted set.
Damn your infinite
list of must-dos and
has beens,
assigned orders
and misplaced values;
I've lost count.