Banging on the wall,
The pangs of it all.
Never ceasing to fire
On the innocents.
Intellectual agendas triumph
over nothing more than their ego.
Growing bigger everyday
Much like the debt they’ll never repay.
Institutions trap beautiful minds
Like foxes in a forest.
Skinning them alive,
Killing their spirits.
True wealth lives inside of us.
The collective that drives.
The heart that collides.
Wealth is in the heart.
Love will never pay rent.
Love will never feed your body.
Love will let you sleep at night
On a cold, piss-stained mattress.
I will sleep well.
I like writing poetry, because I can think I'm as good as T.s. elliot, and no one can argue that.
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