Sugar Cola Cubes

Introspective mathematics
a merged butterfly camouflage
on a buddleia purple
against a sky
I cry every day for my father
sugar cola cubes tinted with redness
hover intently and collapse.
The immersion heater scolds me
it is my intensity
do you know how easy this is for me
rummaging through the gut of my mind
to find the intestines of cerebral sheep
that I count, 1 2 3
every fucking night like a little bo
Yo
count with me I beg you with a crook
thieving from history.
stealing in an obscure rectangle that describes the collapse
of a universal relapse
retrospective
mathematics.