Real Currency
I bet your fingertip hurts,
Little pinkie in a flap.
You're lucky I didn't
Snap the tip off,
Under the circumstances.
Don't hold me responsible for your pain
And yes, I would do it again.
Lay the blame at instinct's
Threshold then gingerly step away.
Ya never know what such
A fierce creature's capable of.
I'd be sure to watch my back...
Don't hold me responsible for your loss.
And yes, you alone must bear the cost.
By the by, this isn't a threat,
Just me stating an obvious fact.
Getting your way creates a paradox:
You misjudge my capacity for deadlocks.
Denial only makes matters worse,
Riding high on inflation places you first
On the surface, for appearances' sake,
but down here, at the bottom of the waterfall,
You lack even the most basic wherewithal,
spinning circles with no real currency.
Engaged, as we are,
in this Life or Death struggle,
You can bank on losing more
than a precious fingertip.
YOU ARE READING
Express, baggage and all...
PoetryObjects in the mirror are closer than they appear... Just when you think you've put something behind you for good, you look back and find it trails you like your very own comet's tail, lighting a path through the dark. Reading through these pages...
