pride

disease of being,
wanting more,
turning some beautiful
maybe
into the hideous
what is,
and nothing is sacred
when everything is for sale.

mother,
wandering through
familiar strangeness,
seeking sustenance,
breasts long dry,
poisoned by drugs and
despair,
still young enough
to barter for
her death and
the life of her children,
always someone ready
to buy her dignity,
to trade what remains
of her esteem
for cash, coin and
the currency of hell.

he slings
with abandon,
wanting to be king
of the 'hood,
of the ghetto,
of the city,
never seeing himself
in the light of
the parasite,
the pariah,
the poisonous soul
contaminating all that
was once lovely and
nurturing in his
shortpants days.
he sells himself
a bill of goods
that he cannot afford
and passes the inflation
down the line,
with his penis
shining from
the saliva of the needy
and his head
empty of anything except
the flickering styles
of video unreality,
little remains
but for him to die,
for his blood to nurture
the uprising
of the next crop of
poisonous fool.

nothing is as expensive as
pride,
cost everything
to maintain it,
can't afford to lose it,
and once its gone,
can't seem to ever
get enough
to buy it back again...