One that is finds no pleasure in life or sexual experiences although finds complete bliss in the perfection of the equation Pi to such an extreme degree that they feel as if the meaning of life it’s self was meant to solely worship Pi.
I didn’t understand nor enjoy life till I found the flawlessness of being a Pi-sexual.
A poem wrote by a skilled Gaelic poet that describes the equation of Pi.
I see the transcendental equation, my perfect Pi-etic formula of perfections perception, let me clear the cathartic confetti off my mind, with a little graffiti painted with rhyme, I found within a pure souls schemes, beating at a constant 3.14, life back into my bloodstream, why was such an elegant absolute such as this given to humanity? Perhaps society needed a flawless form to awake from hates mass-memories. Reading a symbol as I laid wide asleep I feel awake, one thing better another numbered sweet flesh, gift of her eternal breath.