1.618

God is an endless string of numbers.
The in-between details become the devil

With little to no effort.
I calculate repetitively;
Infinitely;
In endless circular trails
Which feed themselves into starvation
Lying perfectly still among the night’s stars
And burning myself out
Into the depths of golden ratio
Numbness

Serpent’s tail shit;
Over and over;
On repeat;
Circular perpetuity;
Et cetera.

Nothing but missing letters
And glorious exhaustion
Lie within

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