Thursday, March 24, 2011

so she wants me to get a job--

good luck--I want to find a job

(self-styled mystic poets need earthly sustenance too ya know--)

but the freelance is sparse and niggardly

(niggardly means cheap--stingy don't ya know--)

she has her points--I've wasted years looking for employment

but the old assumptions are gone (the stinking archtypes

of this sad affair remain but the current methods are more brutal

than ever--I can't--without an argument--point out

that I put myself out for the sake of a major move

and change of climate that her fear and shittalking prevented from

happening (she was as fastidious as some woman haggling with a salesgirl--

she talked a good game ya see but failed to follow through)

and now she's comfortably situated and I--sad trusting asshole

that I am--am in the shit up to my eyebrows)

and yet we're a team--we're united on many fronts otherwise

but I'm in the position of being a failure

and have to endure her unfair advantage--

I may have been a fool regarding the current situation

of business and employment and have to endure the arrogance

of half-wits proudly parading their ignorance

by sanction of their generational construct--

but it doesn't change the fact that I'm in this position

because I trusted an easy talker--

so I seethe with resentment to no fair end--

luck may change--but good luck surviving long enough

to see it--I will struggle for little or nothing

and die of my stupidity and failure of nerve to live

an authentic life--and no mercy from God about it--

as always--everything settled

and nothing solved

Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.

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