GREED AND GRIEF // Yamna Malik

He has built his castle out of gold and green,

What more could breed in his heart of steel?

The grassroots coil around his feet in ropes of thick swamps

And he pulls his cloak of iridescent silk atop his scarred shoulders.

It burns ‘cause the sun is upon him and the hour has stilled into minutes,

Yet he sprints in a haze chasing paper.

Greed echoes off his tongue so gently bred from the rust

Sloshing like cheap wine in his veins,

Feeding his gluttonous heart the tar of his avarice.

Of Manhattan streets, his money smells,

And the wild rush of Turkish breeze.

Burgeoning upon his stiff, crooked spine

Are the nostalgic memories of his lover’s kiss.

Crepuscular skies swollen with glittery might

Lay witness to the fall of his tormented soul,

When she slipped away in hours few in the arms of dreams and a lover new.

‘Cause those crispy bills and shiny cars are paramours of a lonely loon.

Money loves itself despondency and the dizzying rush of Benzedrine.

Curled up in the arms of doubt

Lest fear may trickle down his lips.

Now his suit is slick, dripping extravagance,

and his shoes reflect the city lights.

Eyes dripping poverty in the sweltering summer heat

Roam relentlessly over his heinous opulence.

But oh sweet child, his heart is rogue,

Without a cozy home or an ounce of peace.

Chaos echoes off his tongue in hopes of prevailing

In a battle that wages amidst monstrous lies,

That feed him an occasional dose of induced euphoria.

But oh dear, he’ll never be happy.

For greed repels contentment akin to how the equatorial sun repels the inky dark.

So he’ll lie alone on the marble tiles of black and blue

With veins in thighs and bruising bones

And love will elude him till his last whisper

For he worshipped his liaisons to paper money

And forgot his vows to dear life.

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