If you lack character, lean on money.
Homeless folks lack the hygiene of money.
Wendy O showed her nipples, grabbed her crotch,
licked a sledgehammer. Said, What’s obscene is money.
One sister got soft being loved. The sick
one craved pity. The third grew mean from money.
Give up drinking, cut carbs, sweat in saunas,
juice kale. You cant get clean from money.
Scrambling, hungry, poor from birth. Too many
live under the guillotine of money.
Not the chartreuse of sunlit leaves, turquoise of
Florida waves. His eyes were the green of money.
A tunnel, then light, at the start. Thickening
dark at the end. In between – money.
Scarier than vampires or demons,
he dressed on Halloween as money.
Vital to a baby, milk. To a
child, love and play. To a teen, money.
Shame worms nibble my life, won’t let me
forget what I’ve done and been for money.
Loving it’s the root of every evil,
Chaucer said. There’s no vaccine against money.
More ego-boosting that sex, a stronger
upper than amphetamine – money.
Though he begged, Stay the night, Alison, he
had no books, just one magazine – Money.