This hell is eating me alive.

I am a corporate hand wrench:
used to loosen the grips on
wallets and purse strings;
to tighten the bolts in this
capitalistic Frankenstein's neck;
to strip the threads of reality
out from under our feet.

I serve the fat slobs,
the skinny snobs,
and equally I rob
them of their good sense
and their better cents,
those oh-so-sorry S.O.B.s.

Tomorrow night ends
a straight week of hell -
no highs, no water,
just lies for fodder;
gorging the gorgeous
on diets to thin them
out of existence,
while pimping the blimping
of the ordinarily lardy
is easy enough with fast foodstuffs;
and they all start to expect
triple bypasses as part of the process.

Emotional baggage claims spin
like a bipolar carousel,
twisting with the lies of past lives
and the misremembered words
of those hurts we maybe deserved.

Let's celebrate the celibacy
of the human soul,
that thing that cannot breathe
without the aid of another life;
a connection we so often sever
before it is even formed.

Let us crawl on hands and knees
before abstract cosmic deities
and forsake the ground, without which
we could never know what it is
to stand alone on our own two feet.

TMK 16june2009