Literature
Greed-Floored and bound
Money, luxurious money,
Pouring from all over the world,
I swim in a liquid of gold.
Everything I feel,
Has that gloriously cold touch,
The touch or power,
The touch of riches,
I finger the precious pieces,
Their golden stacks shining back at me.
Inhaling the toxic aroma of material,
Everything that one likes is bad,
Spirit leeched and body drained,
And all to get more.
Muscles collapse under the weight of labour,
I clench my fist, why wont they work harder?
My shipment is due soon, so why are the dawdling?
Sweat dribbles from their brows, as they struggle.
I am not paying them for them to slack.
I glance around my air