Because maybe all I felt was my cold hands
and the slow beat of my heart
as I called out the numbers.
Which beat out like drums;the only voices which had not been silenced.
I wont lie, the weight of the voices
is the drum beat to my numbness.
when my feet rush down the pavement
I don’t see the light,
because all I see are numbers.
Because maybe all I hope to be is
frozen finger tips, blue lips, bruised hips,
counting down the numbers.
I know you think its selfish
That I chose to traipse through darkness
But i’m harnessed to the numbers,
I don’t know why I feel safe in digits
That dignify this madness.
The warmth of souls breathing concern
Pulls me out like magnets.
Yet I cannot discern why in incandescent days
that hold me in such kindness
I’m still shaking off the numbers.