Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2015
my job is a useless service.
i absorb the excess which finds its way to me in a broken economy.
and if i continue to accept this charity then i am party to the crime.

what the mouth of excess steals from the bowels of impoverishment will have nowhere to go.

so i sit and wait
and it spills onto me.

i have money to eat.
but i should have food instead.
Written by
mike
619
   --- and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems