Stats Can Go Fuck Itself

Maths makes me want
To gouge out my eyes
And hand-feed them
To ravenous lions

Maths makes to want
To jump off the roof
Of the tallest building
In the world

Maths makes me want
To bash my head open
On this desk littered
With infinite errors

Maths makes me want
To die a thousand deaths
Because it would be easier
Than solving this bullshit


5 thoughts on “Stats Can Go Fuck Itself

  1. chaannie, a couple of thoughts
    – stats may not have much going of itself. perhaps not suitable, still passing poor enough for the subject of a poem. something small though it is.

    – you are not writing for or competing against stats and math. you are writing, rhyming, and composing for yourself. you are not writing to please, amuse, or otherwise provoke the audience. jog into cognicence or emotion – well the double the victory. every poem poem is for you. each one, fascinating, hard to flow and follow, or anywhere in between is an experience that leads to the next poem. so yes – fuck stats.

    Liked by 1 person

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