Ch (13) Counting for Love

My head down..
Self consciously scuttling..
My clothes ill fitting and threadbare.. My eyes averting from others and my thoughts diverted..
Like lots of small odd sized window panes in the window frame. 
Counting the bars on my door and the light bulbs outside on the walls and the spaces in between. 
The length and breadth and the number of bricks in every row.. I catch myself counting everywhere.
And have to  consciously stop myself from doing it. 
The tiles in the bathroom or the slats over the windows..
Counting and pacing up and down and avoiding the real concerns..
The real issues that need to resolved or faced. Seconds in the minutes.. Minutes in the hours and hours in the days.. In the weeks.. In the months and years.. Years lost.. Years counting and waiting in this jail.

I count the bricks for every minute and the tiles for every month and the windows for every year. I have to stop myself from the counting obsession which siezes my frantic mind when it really doesn't know what else to do
 Perhaps like a the taming of a wild horse..
Bucking and rearing and on down to a quietness onto which there can be some reprieve and onto which new ideas can be formed. 
That constant mindless counting and futile measuring now bridled and focused into the real..
And the next stage

 I'm learning to love better I think..?