Eight hours everyday five days of the week.

Come home, eat dinner go to sleep and have a weekend break.

Wasting time or time gone wasted? Pay the mortgage if I had one to pay. Pay the bills and send the kids all off to college.

That's what management says. "You millennials, always ruining something!"

You can't feed a family on avocado toast seasoned with debt.

Is it worth it? This life I have? These four-walls are a cell and I'm paid to be locked in a for-profit prison. Eight hours everyday five days out of the week.

Food and sleep are a punctuation. Sunlight through a dusty office window and stale break room coffee.

Blink and you're forty. Blink again and you realize that you can't get back the hours you spent on overtime. Glazed-eyes and a faded smile.

"If you don't like it, quit." I would if I could, but I like to have a roof over my head and hot food in the wintertime.

I'll retire when I die.

At least I know that my kids won't have to pay for my coffin.

All your false securities
will not protect you in any degree
when the Man descends from the sky to see
if he or she or them or we
will surrender to him finally
and gather all most nobly
beneath the sun, the Eden tree
and bid that man must bend the knee.
Will we cast aside our crowns, our pride
and recognize that what we idolize -
the dollar bill, the satyrized
faked-out phoney false franchise
that man has made as a disguise
to keep distracted the hungry eyes -
will not serve to get us by
but to keep us down and cold and empty?

The poor are kept poor,
the rich, elevated
to positions of office,
pushing beliefs, outdated,
down Liberty's throat
while Justice, sedated,
sits in the corner
beneath a flag, now faded.

People people
                         they go around like pigs
                         showcasing their fancy suits
                         proclamating the biggest trend

Jewelry, then food, then them big fast automobiles

Those are the priorities by order

Getting greedy
Getting fat
Gettin' Gettin' GETTIN'
                                
                                 In a monstruous ball of meat!
                                 With a monstruous will of plastic!
                                 Monstruously stupid!
                                              Monstruous,­
                                              monstruous...

I'm­ gettin' tired
But I'm afraid,
They are just getting started.

The tyranny of indecision
all heart but no vision.
Utopia dies in dystopian eyes
the songbird cries.

Climate change not just a fable
Racism the successful execution of labels
Capitalism we can't eat from that table
Knives and forks hunger for meat
The poor die and retreat
Meat accounts for green house gasses
While **** distracts us with prosthetic *****
and **** hysteria hits
Drug taking and fits.

Work made us worker drones
Paying off our credit cards and homes
back to basics or what
Studying for didaleey squat
To be given student debt
Our qualification makes us regret
Not the learning
But the money we owe
Utopia where are you? I don't know!

The American dream
is only a dream -
a dream in which
the dreamer is obsolete.
For those who
both sleep and dream
in her streets,
America is a reality
too real to deny,
like a ladder too high
to be climbed,
like a bar too hard
to be bent.
And after each dollar
is spent,
after each shining diamond
find its way to a pocket,
the dream becomes
more and more a dream
that we become
less and less likely
to wake up from.