things and minimalism

things-and-minimalism

The older I get,
the more impatient I am with myself,
this self worth,
forced on me by paradigms,
concocted to make me a buyer,
and a seller,
a street hustler,
on the corner of the gutter edge of my self,
self conscious mother fucker,
always looking for the gun,
but I’m not running,
instead screaming come and get me,
come and shoot me some.
It’s a bitch staring at your consuming, glutinous self,
justifying the next purchase,
alleviating, temporary worthless,
for what?

Making some greedy, needy, wannabe,
scream jackpot,
I’ve got them buy the balls,
and they’re gonna’ purchase,
even pay for their burial spot,
I’ve got them, buying a vaccine from birth,
to their baby showers,
and all through their lives,
and even flowers,
when six feet under,
we rot.

W.E.

Maybe we should declare war not on countries, or people, but on the tycoons who force us to buy, through manipulation and coercion, having us imprisoned in childlike behaviour and consuming everything in sight. Food, clothes, cars, houses, watches, media, gadgetry, weddings, lifestyles and more, we even buy their lies, we buy their bullshit.
Imagine that, we pay for lies.

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