Hooked on a minimum wage addiction.
Survival instincts force a coup of the living room.
Dug into the furniture’s trenches.
It won’t improve in the climb.
The only rising thing is the mailbox.
Seeing red pile up through the cracks.
Trade time for commodity.
Shivering in warmth.
The chill is a fever spike,
failed to sweat out in isolated fits.
Deals run short on purchasing a halo.
Lose luck on happiness and currency.
Drop out and let a house of cards fall.
Drop out and a stray breath blows it down.
Drop out and worries subside subsequently.
Drop out and have it end.
( ❤ Mitch)