Looking through a concrete barricade,
of a forever standing fence.
Edifices created to keep me in,
while jailers whip me with the price of wages.
When I am but a dime a dozen
of evil task masters that only see green.
I recognize the means to their grab bag hands.

Imagine the other side,
pet feces becoming mushrooms that cloud the mind.
The thunder of iron horses,
which translate into pounding hooves
of a dance I cannot do.
I there sitting on a stool
hoping to find solutions to the question
that I do not want an answer to.
While drowning in my own made murk
just to say I am this society.

While leaders with short arms and deep pockets
slip their hands into mine,
with silky smooth tongues of rhetoric
that cause orgasmic brain farts.
I say yes,
take all that I have for a cardboard box in the street.