what can be taken

it's a fucking fist to the throat
every time we look to the future,
to what will become of our beloved brotherhood,
our generations lost in purgatorial waste.
all classes, all demographics represented
through fashion and gadgets and ridiculed childhoods
spent trying to stay alive even if living means death.
and so the trap is set and we stand by until the lever
is pulled and the pendulum is activated, arching
ever so slowly toward the business end of eternity.
wait your turn at the chopping block
so they can get a clean cut
and take away the last part of you
that wants nothing more than to scream.

everyone wants to be accepted and held at the tit on longevity
but no one wants to fade into the mist beyond for a cause
that resounds greater than themselves.

we would rather pay heed to the giant of Economy
that we pretend is a living thing,
an organism with its own taste buds
with an affinity for blood and poverty.

play at the droning voice of pop music and quick takeout
and shield your eyes from the sun that burns you slowly.

play with drugs that numb your soul and keep the wolves in the
darkness where it's impossible to see them tearing away
the scraps of yourself that you never noticed before.

play hide and seek with paychecks that no longer represent
a living wage and buy the products they made for your
complacency and denial so you won't notice when
existence becomes unattainable.

dip your toe in the soup so the predators can get a taste
for you before you're boiled alive in the stews of misfortune
and ignorance, seasoned with want and need,
garnished with promises of wealth and prosperity.

the lies taste so sweet because they reflect our anxiety
in a time where producing more for the enemy has
become commonplace and our futures depend upon
bowing down to the very source of our slaughter.