All Math from Catarrh by ibid.

Any math is accidental, all math is a mistake. Put on my fair-weather face, for these, my fair-weather friends. So much I shouldn’t share with them but we all know it’s such hard work to cross the doorstep, and who has time for this shit anymore? Someone made the coward call to build around us a glass cage: the weather never turns to rain so long as it’s through seven panes. Put on my foul-weather face when I’m naked at the mirror, trying to become a bitter man enough that I can’t be coughed up easily. Oh, that’s just the worst sound — keep it coming. Oh, just the worst sound, but I love you when you make it. Any math is accidental, served up on a place, spat into a napkin, all math is a mistake.

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