IamspecialIamspecialIamspecialnotsospecial.

 

 There’s a saying, and it goes that if you count many segments in a spider’s web -- up to infinity or a thousand – you are destined to perish pleasurably.

 

 I’ve only counted one-thousand and ninety-nine.

 

 

 Numbers are always relevant: in the number of men (six) and the number of women (also six, perhaps seven if you include insemination), in the number of years one spends wastefully dreaming and inactively subpassively doing (a one-third ratio, depending on an age and an average), and in the number of what we are comprised of (avogadro’s constant, technically speaking, or several billion billion.)

 

 

Behind the drawer ‘til the dresser moved out, secrets stay in more than crevices.

Glasses remain my only admissions, my only contritions.

 

 

Mayfly propriety, please darling – just tell me it will be this way forever.

 

 

Some days, I think my life is recorded in zeroes and ones.