Beauty was her name
But deceiving
Were her looks,

Written on the seams
Of her well ironed dress,
Popping from the shine
Of her blood spattered
Lipstick

If I were a fool
Then they would call me a genius -
But because I knew her
I am nothing
But broken

In the morning before work
I sit on the floor and pretend
that it’s dirt. I look out the window
and pretend that it’s church.
That gods of the earth and sky
and space all did their research
in collaboration to be sure
that today is worth it.

Every-time I try something new
I get excited like a few
When the charm wears off
And the pants come off
I give my best
Try it with zest
Till it bores me
Or it scares me

to those who not born an aristocrat,
what it means to be a human-being?
a terrible exhaustion - result of attrition
soulless slave - six days a week
is there any other alternative, though
I cannot outstare the bill faces
rent will due soon
endless presentations
pointless meetings
118,000 unread emails
week long business trips
"bare minimum to get by" prohibited
I have lunch delivered
snacks delivered
dinner delivered
I have all the food inside my office
and a beautiful apartment facing the sea
with the sun rays peeking in through the blinds each morning
but I'm just too busy
hopelessly hoarding pennies
hopefully saving enough joy for the future
they say your hardwork will come into frution
repeating cycles of entire career till retirement?