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Life Abacus

Life Abacus


I grip my intention and squeeze the meaning out
Truth bleeds all over my tight bounded fists
There isn’t a chance in hell letting my grip slack
There's too much at stake, Too much that could be pissed away.

Don't tell me what I already know
Don't try and tell me what you think I need to know
My mind is a canvas and I'm the fucking tortured artist, not you
It's my blood that's spilled, my sweat that's worked, my tears that frustrate
I see the squares in a grid formation
In the air but not made of dust
My life is compartmentalised and that's how I can function
Going from block to block
If I let you tell me a story
Will I know the ending before your mouth has formed the words?
Will I guess the punchline or the moral?
Will I regret those past minutes in my life abacus?

 V TOPP

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