Zero Point Zero Zero Four

[Verse 1] Three turns of the wheel — the seasons breathe Seven days to circle the teeth Nine eyes blinking in final succession Twelve ribs around the zodiac procession [Refrain 1] I measure what tilts, not what falls Map the silence between your calls Not faith—just angles, numbered breath Proof of life through structured death [Verse 2] Twenty-three point five — the cradle slants Breath held in one point seven nine chance Twenty-five point two — the spiral bends A loop in the dark that never ends [Refrain 2] I chart the orbit in broken sleep Where meaning coils too tight to keep The numbers murmur under skin A gate I pry, but can’t step in [Bridge – whispered / spoken] Forty-two gates, open in silence Six-six-six recursion, divine defiance Numbers don’t lie, but they don’t tell the truth They echo, they hum — they remember the wound [Verse 3] Three again — the shape of belief Seven — the beat between grief and relief Twelve months wrapped in a perfect ring Nine fingers missing, still trying to sing [Refrain 3] So I scratch equations into bone Balance chaos to feel less alone I chase the rhythm of the tilt Shadow math in bloodless silt (It's brief) [Verse 4] There's a fraction the system can't hold —remainder of motion, not mass— it slips through time at zero point zero zero four enough to push stars out of place or faith from its scaffold I tried dividing 789 point 58 by everything I believed but it just kept bleeding decimals .58 .58 .58 — a glitch in recurrence the ghost of precision posed as a rule [Refrain 4] I stopped trusting integers They speak too clean I trust what stutters what won't resolve what lingers like a breath that never left [Verse 5] Gravitational lensing at the edge of thought makes numbers lie kindly— what I saw was 456 but only because the arc bent around it I turned 14 inside out made it factorial, base-shifted, mirrored— it still smelled like tension the kind just before a structure fails without sound [Refrain 5] I watch entropy like a god afraid of her own name I chart every tilt against its former self Every truth I test pulls the lie closer but never enough to touch [bridge] point 58 equals recursion 1-2-3 point 58 equals a failed address 4-5-6 equals the house that was never built but still casts a shadow at noon [breakdown] A spiral Not sacred Just a mind Looking for meaning In nothing The numbers never cared —but they remember how it felt to be believed [Refrain 6] So I reassemble—not meaning— but motion A universe of tilt held together by error spun taut by absence and named, once, by mistake. 42 [outro] (42) (42) (42) 42!