The fiction

I close my eyes to see the direction my dreams take me

Only to see that my nightmares become more vivid as I crack my eyelids

Hoping to see the peace but only seeing that little has changed other than the direction I’m facing

I’m lead down paths of survival working endlessly just to have a meal and shelter

I long to once again see hope when I sleep but alas my paths lead back to cornered markets raising the price of life making it cheaper to die

Since dying isn’t an option I’m forced to struggle

I hope to have
Still having seems to bring the pains of needing more

Pushing me and others to buy into what looks like plenty

Spending our lives to spend our dimes and nickels on more fickle ways to lie to each other dressing up just to say

“I’m worth a little more”

With the only trinket to say so being a tag on our collars with a name

A name that says we paid more for less

But I can’t fight dreaming about stamped paper on pointless goods

Getting nothing out of them dead envious glares of others who want the same nothing I have

Trapped in my and ours defecation of currency during another self-inflicted deficit

All I can hope to do now is to warn others of this fiction

“That freedom is good but Capitalism is better”

When the fact is Capitalism kills love and transforms your freedom into the life of a slave debtor

Jalili B. Jimiyu

Yeah it’s copyrighted © 2009