Yes I am complaining…
For drugging the appetite and making a meal…
For giving me the faculty to be and actually to feel…
For making me a scarecrow and a mannequin…
For kindling my desires and backstabbing…
For keeping the embers and killing the flame…
Yes I am complaining…
For making me a confused wishlist and an array…
For deciding to test Economics through me…
For making me a cornucopia of desire…
For making me a denounced mass of protoplasm…
For driving me up Atlas and shoving me down the chasm…
For making me a devotee and a heretic…
Yes I am complaining…
For making me the poem and the muse…
For making me the corn and the cob…
For making me the sting and the stung…
For making me yearn what I was ultimately to refuse…
For making me a whiz where it didn’t matter…
For giving me vision cloaked in illusion…
For making me a pimp and the pawned ounce of flesh…
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