The homeless are dead therefore
or walking-eternals
in timeless necessary infernals
as are animals
and the tree felled uneconomically

Financial freedom laughs at time
time to burn
time to kill
in warfare

Them that have the most, win
the accounted ones, accountables and accessorised
with accounts

debts, and complaints thereof
are grounds
and not the hypnic corpse
spirited away by submachine dreams
of black gold eternity on alien fields of
poppy or code pulse, foundling-like

Accumulation is saved up
destruction feted with golden paper
glisten, red paper envelopes from a new
year welcomed with gunpowder - as time drags on...

Time is today, like a perverted napoleonic exchange
of rat status, imperious and grossly diplomatic with
unconquerable zero-sum mind games

those who burn, win

the hot-mined fever is victory blazoned
for the destitute
and the radio what-about-mes 24/7 from those 
with enough

more than enough

and free is a neuronal rush to a somehow confectionary Boxing Day.

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