Money only flows
the wrong way,
upriver
on leaves of distrust.
Into pockets
of the corrupt.
Branches
of money trees
grow
towards the heights
seeking the sun
where the elites sit
in penthouse palaces
beyond the clouds.
It never rains down
on the crowds
of people below,
pacing the streets.
It never washes
their bleeding feet.
It just sits
raising the roof
of the places
where rich
people
shit.
I don't need
a money tree.
Not fame,
nor celebrity.
I let words
feed my brain,
imagination falls
like a steady rain.
Feel the floating
letters pop
like soda bubbles
in my head.
The words never stop
poetic roots entangle,
everywhere
my heavy feet trample.
Thanks for reading
Endless Nightmares out now
300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelling
Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
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