these are geniuses
these titans of industry
using their wealth of knowledge
to pursue unimaginable avenues
of unadulterated greed
soar to heights
unable to be touched
cold, as the air is thin
up there
with no care
and no connection to anything human

you can make
morning midnight
but you brighten dark days too
and, on the whole,
I'm happy to say
I have you

somebody's ******
floating in my soft drink
I should have ordered hard

the ice is raw
lines still there
fresh from skating

and the atmosphere
in here
is something like a graveyard

the cat isn't out of the bag
they're beating on it
still covered in burlap
butterflies all havin' fun
gone, as spring
draws near its end
and if there are fumbles,
that's saying the least of it,
it's all we seem to be able
to muster these days

you are tired
and I am tired
of the status quo
of
the way things go,
it's not something we can say any longer,
with gaze casted down
and held tongues
we must be stronger

I wrote a draft
I'll circle back
when thoughts coalesce
instead of collapse
when I have
a better grasp
of what exactly I intend to mean