tomorrow

tomorrow tomorrow... my mindless narcotic
i plunge tragically into your plutonomy
as long as god is pecuniary
the love of lucre is my sordid desire
it plumps the luckpenny and replaces a toadstone locket
around my neck
all moisture must be removed during mummification
until a thin cake or wafer remains to erase the elastic
identity
it is the story of time
it is a new language:
word~wax
adding a luster to muscle with a bashful waggle
12 surds per second keep your voice down
upcasts yowl
without recourse
so large
so perfectly white
it was abandoned immediately by the many
but guarded jealously by the few with plenty