Time to weep,
the dollar sign shadow
looms larger than an onyx sun;
blight out prosperity–
premature interment
Cellulose asphyxiation,
debt digs loaded graves–
doggedly nipping heals
‘cross styx’s muddy waters.
Born pure to bent-back;
Atlas Strangled.
Burdens consort with nooses;
innocence flees from baby derma,
corrupted by every cent–
greed’s birth annuls life.
Feed the glutton
that grips your throat.
Smile tighter,
where it goes—
fodder fuels the flames.
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