Precious little slices –
Cross sections of existence.
Seconds, minutes, hours,
Trickling by in homeostasis.
Scraping by like this,
Isn’t living.
Floating in purgatories of wage slavery,
Isn’t living,
Either.
What worth is talent,
Or intelligence,
In this world,
Riddled –
With such broken hierarchy?
Precious Little Slices –
