Control

Measure out the isolation
Filter out the concentration
Organize the injuries and wishes into sizes
Into shapes and into values, into costs and compromises
If the blocks are all adjusted adequately, it’s a cube where all the colors are aligned, and people say that makes it whole

Factor in the complication
Mute the pain of computation
Allocate a meaning to the days evaporated
All the ones I can’t recall and all the ones I fabricated
If they’re all assigned a number I can weigh them on a scale and if it balances correctly then it means I have a soul

Calculate the admiration
Quantify the destination
Designate a number to the point I started dying
Started saying that I’m living, or pretending that I’m trying
If the points become a line and I can say that it’s increasing then it means that I’m succeeding – that’s apparently the goal

Qualify the adoration
Simulate the conversation
Figure out the purpose of a word before it’s spoken
And determine how to fix what I can break before it’s broken
If I manage to assemble all the words and all the bleeding into something that can satisfy the value that you’re needing, I can finally be the version of a me that has a meaning – I just need to put forever into color-coded boxes till I have the things I need under control