Everything belongs to the rich;
from your beating soul
to your weeping heart,
they bought it all many years hence.
There was once a man
so consumed by hubris,
he would buy all the gold drippings
of our humanity, and hang them
like corpses on his walls.
His rooms were deep with
the stains of hopes extinguished
and the carpets ran
with the blood of fractured dreams.
He spent many days
just looking into fractured mirrors
wondering at his wonderful world
his beautiful face
and terrible intentions.
He would stride out
to a yellow cab black cab
limousine or sports car
and never return until people watched.
He would steal the sight from their eyes
if he could.
He would take their homes
if he had need.
In truth he needed nothing,
had everything, but wanted something
something he didn’t even know
something nobody told him about.
And so on he went
needing this great unseen without
and within. And on he went
destroying and chuckling
like an angry little boy.