One, Two, Three, Four.

I always spell it out so easily for you as you lay back and watch
The infinite beady eyes in the night sky blinking at you.

He's in love with it too.
And not only are you and I in love with it,
But there's also her.

This isn't what I usually am;
I usually have a more dominant sense of decency than this.
There's more than one day of the week though
And I'm struggling to find someone real again
So why not try one.. two... three.... four at a time?

"Stop" is what I tried to mail into my mind,
Using the "one, two, three, four" as a righteous hammer to
Viciously massage the message through my crown.
No matter what I did though,
I would unerringly end up at my "Could-have-been" and my "Soon-to-be" scenarios.
With this piece of life in my hand,
I would reach the other into the depths of my scarred protective casing,
Speeding past the vacant tundra in my chest,
Sneal with a ghostly aura through the capsized walls and seize an
Exasperated beast that I would take a minute to debrief ideas of idealities to
And then release onto my crown to clear the disposition of the actions
Its bejeweled eyes are forced to witness to no end.
Although Monday's movements knocked and undulated with my soul,
I couldn't give him this coronet.
Although Tuesday's torrential force stimulated my entire core beyond the point of causing
Wednesday.. Thursday... Friday.... and Saturday to be an afterthough,
He also stimulated the corps.
His throat would hurt,
Not only because of my talk,
But because he had turned my talk into a rally.
Saying that I couldn't give him this coronet was an unfathomable understatement.

I just plain hate Sundays.

Hallelujah Amen though to having a new week that,
Even though it was brought into this world by that horrible last,
Encourages me to solve that problem.

It's not a problem though because,
Even though I will always have one.. two... three.... four of them,
I will always have that one, two, three, four.
Even if I never solve that space of that one left,
I'll always find someone who's in love with this one, two, three, four.

It'll never feel real though...

I miss him being my real one.. two... three.... four.

It's not a problem, it's my problem.

I'm stuck in one.. two... three.... four of these.

It's you.. Her... Him.... Me.

Come back and count with me,
Solve this with just One.. Two... Three.