Mathematical Life Complexity

This sucks. I’m useless. I felt absolutely useless when I couldn’t help the person I love when I heard about all the shit she’s been through and have been going through still. Don’t you just wish you can make passionate love, kiss someone you see and fall in love for the first time you met? Why can’t we do that?
It breaks my heart to hear that she’s hook herself up with a guy who has a fiancée and still continues to see him ever so often. It breaks my heart more knowing that she knows she was being made used of, and yet she does the same to him. Perhaps she just wishes to be made use, as she yearns for his company and entertainment, solely for the sheer joy of companionship.
Love – there is no definition for it. It’s complicated as it is. We love to love, and hate to love. My love life is complex. It has an imaginary part, and a real part.

Society reeks
of conformity permits
my heart was thumping like a surgical kit
i wipe the spits while my finger quips
of telling her how familiarity breeds
of contempt complacency and reality
pushing thru formality hostility
you wanna be a celebrity
my heart was broken when more adoration
was necessary to capture this guys attention
it kills my passion for that imagination
if my premonition lacks orchestration
i feel for her the things that she prefers
on a 22 i would have hit the per
so heres my tribute for the person i love
you are more than that you are higher above
if there was then this other dimension
i would love you more with an exclamation