Money doesn't talk

by The Wait Child
originally published at 05:23AM on Tuesday, May 13, 2008

My heart is fat
And my thighs are too
She bakes in the kitchen
And Bob Dylan sings a tune
She feeds herself coffee and cream
They come all the way from America,
White goods gleam like pearls
Adorned with a “new and improved� sticker
Peeling back colourless onion layers,
Her eyes a dull machine,
The centre is rotten and rancid
But at least her kitchen’s clean

Prequels

Sequels

Comments

  • from THX 0477:

    Biting, stinging message…sounds like an attack on the 50’s style facade of a happy home with no substance behind it.