unemployed
un-enjoyed
masterminds’
master
plan’s
making
some noise
(no
one gets destroyed,
well,
maybe some toys)
who
like to play games
seeking
their fame
they
all smell the same
go by
the same names
“cocksucker,
ass-kisser”
a “miss”
or a “mister”
a
friend or her sister
your
wife’s getting blisters
from
counting your money
I know
you’re no dummy
don’t
look at me funny
who’s
running what?
is it “some
what?” or “so what?”
it’s
no different the loss
if
you’re not the boss
expenses
keep growing
without
you even knowing
caught
it all in a glimpse
haven’t
mentioned it since
what a
messenger am I
if I
don’t, even, try
delivering
sensitive material
to
people so fragile?
but
back to my plan
oh
yes, back again
I need
to move on
to see
a new dawn
so
with closure in place
I’ve
cleaned out my space
to
bring something new
not
much left to do
©December
18, 2007—Tamara Imes-Nicholas
Edited
2015
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