the width of capital
stuffstuffmustgetstuff
fill the gaps
between the walls
separate the muskly deathly stench
of rich people who have everything but themfucking selves.
poor little rich girl
cries even when it's windy.
never known the things she saw
were real and future pending.
she tends to think
the world is such
that all are sentient beings.
the guilt the shame seeing
such things
heltersktelterous beings.
Daddy yelled get the belt
only a few times.
usually it was get the switch.
threats were made
privacies raided
no bones to call my own
bouncing thoughts my only friend
dissheveled into twelve
not I, said, me, the bratty young thing,
Not I, said, you, the ratpack.
Manipulative cat scratching friends
in my headbrainskin
why can't we all be fuckingfriends?!
so we pingpong back and forth
twelve monkeys scattering limbs
never thought to end such silly thrills
boredom is the enemy of wealth.
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