on the street

i felt lost in my civilization
and i felt plagued by
my history
i went mad beneath
the hammer
of an iron
forged dollar
frenzy
of gruesome
waste and left
the void to find
my senses
in wildlife sanctuaries
bars without prison
breakneck
battleground of
bourgeois freedom
the suckling pig
of my
forefathers my
fat dripped
on a porcelain plate
licked clean by
zombies in suits
wielding debt
pronouncing
consumption as my
goal
a gaol
without a
sinner inside
my fat
congealed a
sinister motive
before I could
see I was
injected
with a cure for
choice dependent
on drugs can I be
blamed?