If Only I Read More Milton Then I Would Really Understand The Inner Workings of Human Pain

I will never
wander
the way I have
from you again
these cravings
never go
but they will
ruin this sculpture
of the almighty...

fuck it
let's drink
ourselves silly

Makin' Bank?

nothing worse than money
nothing at all
we will all die
for a paycheck
to eat
to sleep well
to not "let it get to you"

but we have survived
and we will
if only by the skin of our teeth
smiling the crooked smile
of an out of work banker
begging for the end
reinventing piety
in the form of loneliness
thinking...

"the wife and kids left when the money did
but where did my mind go?"


My guess
is that you sold it for a hamburger
and warm lite beer
and some pussy
and an early grave.

Why not sell the pace maker while you're at it?

Empathy as an Art Form or Make It Count, Motherfucker

as if the plucking of strings
or pressing down on the keys
or beating down on it
would ever change anything

as if reciting old prose
letting myself go
or pretending to kill my ego
would ever stop this from happening

but

money
hardwork
determination
fortitude
ass-kissing
phony handshakes
and
winks
and
stares of sincerity
and
emphatic laughter
and
believing
that the hereafter
is better than all of this

will make you feel safe
at last
before they put flowers
on your grave
and just like them
you whither away