Wage Slaves

The pit is where I have fallen;

Or, incidentally I have been pushed.

You are all here with me –

Babies screaming

Mothers hiding

Fathers fleeing

Children leading.

They are pushing more in, chanting

‘Get that money,

Get that money.

We make it okay,

Make it worth that money.’

They give out the money,

They print the money,

They determine the value of the money –

Of your life

Of your wants

Of your needs.

Digging the pit further,

Making room for more.

Breeding everyday –

Soul rot is the best fertilization.


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