From ancient temples folks align themselves with greed. The lust after money so their spouses are always kept waiting. The motivation inspires some selfish scheme, but the subconsciously say it's for the other. Coffers of cash and coin. Coffins lie in wait. You cannot stop death anymore than you can stop time; It isn't enough to climb atop Big Ben and dangle above the street below, trying to rip its mechanical hands off its face. Greed as in non-compassionate, no-awareness. Ignorance is not always intentional. Blocks of stairs leading the heaven and one trapdoor to Hell. Greed, a poison of the soul. Some renegade self-preservation archetype I do not wish to familiarize myself with. Day after day, peddling a checkbook and never opening it. Ebenezer Scrooge in a cold bed with no heat. Just light the damn logs. I think of venomous smiles, snake-like. Fish-eye lens dialed in on the mouth. There is a small top hat atop his head. It is silk linen and expensive. I do not trust these greedy men. 

Author: Roe

she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: