I have three options, two hands,
and no way to weigh my choices.
If I was standing at a fork in the road
at least I’d have a 50/50 chance.
I’ve got 99 problems, or possibly 33
but they all seem to involve numbers.
Not enough digits in the bank.
Not enough hours in the day.
I can’t live with the Devil’s balance sheet.
I am crushed by the numerical weight of chaos.
No more numbers. Give me words instead.
Weave me a blanket of nouns and verbs.
Tell me a story to cover me in warmth.
Sing a song or recite poetry
But let no digits pass your lips
so that I may rest in lettered bliss.