the thin line
haunts me on
these two day
runs without
an hour of sleep
defintions slough
away like rancid
chunks of flesh
until each word
is just a puzzle
of disharmonic
like the cries
trapped deep
in the back
of my torn
bloody throat
begins to fade
and consumption
is all i see
devaluing life
as a commodity
as pawns on stilts
push the pieces
to make up for
inherent shortcomings
phallic rockets
to seek new worlds
to conquer in
the name of the
almighty dollar
i claw furrows
across my eyes
unable to wake
from my sleeplessness
as my net worth
dwindles into the red
hoping to be
rebranded as
something someone
foolishly wants
yearning to be
minutely needed
knowing it is
as realistic as
capitalism doing
anything for
bottom feeders
supping on scraps
hope to survive
another day


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