I'll give yp tomorrow...

I'm not saying nothing
these words are not here
barely a whisper spoken
into an eager ear with lips
juicy in gossip
"What's the deal?
What's the word?"
the voice breaks in a seismic
instant, the house we built
with poorly chosen materials
collapses as the hair on
my chinny chin chin is shaven
by a cheap disposable razor
and smiling with a still rough
expression, you get what you pay for
and I don't pay much while the wallet
is desperate in it's endless hours of neglect
only fed from paycheck to paycheck
every week or other, the leather remembers
when it used to graze grass
as I once did, the lungs consumed it
in smoke, the liver laughs in madness
while the body, mind and soul wonders
"Can we take any more of this?"
perhaps... fuck it
I'll give up tomorrow