We, the addicts, We, the drug-dealers, We, the accusers, We, the hypocrites!

This was a piece I wrote in pure rage at the “System” when things weren’t unraveling in my favor.

The morning light rises and the brewing addiction awaits.

The prostitutes are salesmen laughing in our hesitation.

The preacher above us all sniffing his Cocain of hypocrisy.

We point to the poor in judgment and slander.

We lie to the world and ourselves with distractions.

You have sinned against your own morals.

You hide them with excuses of inexistent obligations

The perfect are accusers?

The imperfect are judged?

The liars are blessed.

The truth sets you free!

Only to be captured once again.

The light is set at the end of the tunnel,

But the light is a painted dot.

You will never touch the end

The end is never ending.


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