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.