Money, or Cerebral Coretext

[e_dog]

money
is a dream
like the fear of falling
and the joy of wine

a cultural cancer
forgiving us all in time

the judgment is the rhyme
and the rhythm is your disdain

this is the stain
there is no detergent
strong enough to rid
me of my mind

death costs
and funerals are an artform

wading through the sewer
he found his idol
drinking from a puddle

you knew this would not be
the last, so
this will be the first