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Poem

This is not a  conversion disorder
There is nothing like numbness, 
I can touch the report
I can feel the calender on my table
Not even blindness
Because i can see the list 
Of things am met to spend  
These few dollars i risk for

Don't even give it a thought
My muscles are functioning 
I have been working for thirty days 
I have been working on reports 
While posting poems on PS
That sweeps my internet 

Its just a choice disorder
I am loosing control
On my priorities 
I am running mad over this tax
These workers drink electrify 
Like elephants
There throats have rust on them

Hell No! Noisy bobs are back
For holidays, ready!! 
To beg for their sweets justice
And holiday work help
Yet I paid their teachers

And the shameless landlord
Who brings his long beak
After smelling chicken on my stove
Knowing am now paid
Started coughing hard last night 
For to remember 30TH is here

How do they call them
Insurance thugs or what?
Cant i just drive my car?
Are you gods to predict fate?
Then this government tax
Which makes those hippos
Break or plastic chairs on parties
 
Look at the city vendors 
who shout at me
Uncle buy this
Dad buy this
Shut up are we clan mates?

These employs
You fire this, he incarnates in that
Same begging, same laziness,
Same excuses
All merciless keep peeping 
In my office to measure 
My disability to pay so that they call a strike

And this noisy woman
No salt, No food,
No sugar, soup,
No..hair
No...make up
No Sex!
Did I create 30TH 
Or the fate of 31TH

These dollars i hold in my hands 
Are invisible
I have worked hard
For those eating much they labor not for 
I cant even pay myself on it
I i do someone will shout!!!
Till i go for a bank loan

And every one will smile 
On 1st thanking me  
For becoming poor
And making them rich
As they tell me stories of drinking themselves foolish
And cheat on their wives with strippers
As i remember 
How i paid the last coin
To the church
For crying my tears in their pews
Its all i get 
Hysteria at the end of the month
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