I'm vibing riding on high over the coast line Bobby linearly, counting peaks like a number line Hoping that the coast stays clear I can sense my ghost is near but still I feel no kind of fear Beginning to think I like it here

I'm boasting I'm gloating Gliding on my coattails I passed one test but my laurels are rested

Soon the ride slips and it's back to jogging the unending slog on the hedonic treadmill The flying high resides with the receding high tide as brightening skies hide away the moonlight The derivative dips and it was only relatively impressive in the relative Only locally a local minimum but low-key lowly compared to it globally

Sun will start to rot the husk that feeds the feasting buzzards and Once what was wet grows rust I have to assume my days are numbered Floating on a melting iceberg Hot and wet and shivering under the burning Sun Yet I'm still singing, impressing the air compressing it's galeing frequencies with each choked note in from my frosty breath Left home with no calculator but I'll construct an abacus out of snowballs I'll scrawl equations with an icicl e drawing on the snowfall

Integrating the feigning waing, dry unraining contributions is fruitless Enumerating stutters like it's tasked with paradoxically computing a super task for Banach–Tarski. Or put in other words like a Taylor Series, asymtotic That is to say it leaves you with diminishing returns Emotionally hopeless only knowing contentness, never pleasure Even combinatorically trying each island leaves me crying stoic freezing tears feeling like I've been scratching at mear fractions of this vast wet uncharted desert wetland

Why have I chosen to wade hopelessly lonely strapped to a raft in the ocean Maybe I'm petrified by the prospect of progress and the turbulent haze of exerting the weight needed to churn the phasing waves A proposition too pricey to move these soggy limbs and sway the foggy mental malaise But without guest or propulsion, I'm hooked on that notion

Or even more fearing the dawning bronze delicately doting on those distant shorline fronze?

Maybe only four points on the compass rose, yet so many more unknown peering past the shore behind the horizon line Radially infinite in a wider sense Too wide to feel with my minds eye even when viewed under the lense of preciser approximations of pi

I can explain it descretly but only in the abstract To see it concretely would be to comprehend the true vast scale of God Maybe something I once knew but have since forgot Something I have yet to do with my mear mathematical proofs But I'll keep applying the theorems and trying the lemas Because in this liminal abyss all I know is dissociating, my mind can do is race and pin me down with contemplating quotients of these delightful dilemmas So paralyzed like wood I'm stifly drifting not so swiftly by like a castigated castaway Listen close and might you hear a blip of my patterned babbling echo through your sagging sails just before it fades away within