written last night at around 2 am (witching hour)

This wall is not infinity
I cannot through it
understand the concept of
infinite divinity

He's not trying to me romance
nor is the meeting of which
he spoke to me this night
a ploy to get in my pants

Infinity is not a butterscotch wall
that I thought was sea-green
and therefore matching my ink
How easily into paranoia do I fall

Infinity is not a wall with a window
and I am not a stupid girl
Don't assign such significance
just go with the flow

Yes, correct is the count of five
at least manifested externally
Anything else? Uncountable.
even if the counter were up and live

It may not hurt anymore
but the mark exists
and will talke a bit to fade
I feel a bit like a whore

The flow's dead. Oh well.
Time to sleep then have coffee
Illusions of me exist out there
I am going to dispel