Numerical hyperbole 


On days where coefficients become imaginary numbers,

You suspect that deviation is becoming non-standard,

That integration won’t coordinate your thoughts,

And that darling Nernst was potentially a trifle fixated.

On Sundays you’re worried about regression,

That backwards sloping tide of linear thinking,

Denying the possibility of a many-tailed fish.

But are your aquatic fears myopic twice-over?

You can ask me just one more time about the errors our ways,

I’ll even fetch you a cup of tea,

But please don’t test me,

I’m significantly more numerically challenged than you know.

(c) Accidental Tentacles 2017



Amid the cobbled stones,
And scholars I had my days,
steeped in manners and respect,
Generating a heady tincture of esteem,
that I thought was illegal.

Doors held open.
Hands used to greet and guide,
And words I’d forgotten could be so much more,
Than just filling out the spaces in-between.
Forming a banquet of discussion.
A guilded and charmed retreat,
Where I was someone.

Vitality seeped into the the void

that anxiety had left bare.

A beguiling contrast to what came before
And I was drunk on it.
Giddy on the newfound flush
Of invisible circuitry,
That only reveals itself in books
And Sunday morning gallops

I didn’t know that the switches
For fear and delight,
Were housed so,

I didn’t know that breathing
Could feel this easy,
Without someone’s approval.
I didn’t know I had the power
To authorise this shift.

(c) Accidental Tentacles 2016