There was a striving to do, accomplish,
and make the world a better place
according to a will that was packaged
and sold to the wannabe winners.
I matter, was not a mutter,
it was a scream
heard in the dark
of the personal night
and no one listened or shared...
and the sun came up
to another day and the yawning yearn
of appreciation, but indignation
of finally fitting in with the living
room tattlers of dark tales
told with smiles and coos
and tight smiles and clothes.
I'm drinking my big gulp coffee
and painting my face
and hating the man that brings
me the salvation of the buck
that I need to keep up the lie
that I might succeed
someday in a a cloud of greed.
Shit, that was then, long ago,
today I lay as a grand mummy
and watch the colors
eyes closed, mind shut...
I think with my heart.
Those colors, those beautiful
colors... they are me... and...
I am blessed to be amongst
the unsuccessful.
I can feel my own pulse.
