telling
Shouting
SCREAMING

my inner dialogue
telling me
just to

shower
Get Up
DO SOMETHING

but i cant
the executive in charge of function said
NO

my feet are on backward and i think i'm dying
baby, hold me

i'm landing in my sunnystep and my brain is like
thunder music, a beat only a child can drum to

eyes squinted i'm overwhelmed, an anxiety attack
only my mother could sniff out
honey i'm too in denial to tell

i got ******* work to do

but my mind won't let me go
won't let me walk
talk

baby, hold me
lift me from my sunnystep
make me slow down

Mr. Wall Street,
Yes, YOU
You in the Perfect Suit

Here are your instructions:

Take off your polished handmade Italian shoes
Yes, take them off, right here in the street
Don't ague with me!

Peel off those long thin black dress socks
Feel the pavement under your
Smooth, clean white feet

Leave your former shoes to
Cry for their former owner
Some panhandler will grab them
and give them a very different life

Now walk into the cheap barber shop
And tell the barber to shave your head
Yes - all of your hair

That full head of thick corporate hair
Falling to the floor in a pile of silver silk
As the barber hides his laughter

Now walk barefoot and bald
in your $3000 pinstriped business suit
and your silk tie and cufflinks and starched white shirt
and cashmere overcoat

Walk barefoot though the financial district
Everyone will stare
Your colleagues and friends and competitors will laugh
As dust collects on your smooth, supple clean white soles

Destroy your privilege
Cut ties
Burn your bridges
But first cross over to the other side
Become an outsider

Barefoot bald and humiliated

You can start again