{redacted} tells you that he is on the street due to laziness,
some other personal fault, or pure recklessness.
{redacted} tells you to swallow your guilt as you pass him
wordlessly, your cheeks burning, because
you work hard, you deserve this life.
People pay for their mistakes.
{redacted} tells you that you do not feel the heat rising,
and that seven hours of your attention is worth just enough
to eat, and scrape on rent, and do it over again.
{redacted} tells you to keep striving, because
only effort wins property, and you are in a race against your neighbour,
and you must sell your labour to the highest bidder.
{redacted} tells you you are family and not cattle on market day.
{redacted} tells you that your ambition is to be coveted,
to appear as though you have played the game
with minor friction,
except perhaps some fashionable over-exertion,
taking one wild night too far before Monday.
{redacted} tells you to scatter, be suspicious, point fingers at suspects,
anything but talk and listen.
Capitalism has sold you lies.
Capitalism packaged them in warm colours, over familiar words,
addressing you as family all while swiping the rug from beneath your feet
and calling it a ‘favour’,
acting in your ‘best interests’.
Capitalism is a pathetic, sterile voice that begs for your loyalty
as it stirs poison into your food,
haunts your every move
death by a thousand cuts.
You are near the top now looking out, what do you see?
Isn’t it rather empty?
The sound of blood has not left your ears since you got here,
your red palms will not wash clean.
You watch somebody pass you on the street,
you are hungry. But
it’s not their mouth to feed.
Discussion about this post
No posts