Sunday, November 30, 2014

Circular Insanity

It's eight o'clock.
I need to pick out my clothes.
Tomorrow is another (you're
Only, you're always a) day
Away. We pay the bills
Our younger selves
Accrued, as our elder
Selves somewhere cackle
At the thought of running
Out on us and our recurrent debts.
For this, we seek, who are
Not capitally enriched,
Nor foully bewitched by indifference,
Some employment.

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