An Easy Mark

It can never be enough.
It can never be enough.
The sleepwalk lust of addiction drives you
to skin pop the wasted ground
for mainline crude.
You tell yourself
birthrighted lies
while you watch
your lifejacketed children
jet ski burn the sky
and the future.
It can never be enough.
It can never be enough
and
there isn't enough.
The lend lease world
you girdle with asphalt
and inseminate with
concrete
lost the connection
and can't get you high.
You will shake
backseated in moneyed sweat
and molar cracking waves
of craving.
All that's left
are withdrawl nostalgia daydreams
of excess
and the sweet smug feeling
of having too much
while watching someone else
claw the nail blood ground
for none.
Goosepimple Detroit chrome
chopped out the lines
of grade A,
uncut
American greed.
You came to the party
pocket lined with empire tribute
and mad for it.
You were an easy mark.
Now,
it can never be enough.
It can never be enough.