workday

i am sick. and tired.

not sure how much longer i can do this; 

plastering on a smile for the pennies

flesh and bones sewn together by needles and thread

the love of capital seeping into every last aspect

rots me to the core,

ruins me like the hot sun

ends me like a new day

picked over by sick starved cats,

picked over by rabid dogs on frayed ropes,

picked over by men with sticks,

picked over by men whose legs

reach across nations.

kick the horse when it's down.

steal from dead children.

drain the dry lake