Every dollar I make I already owe.

I miss poetry in my life.
Desperately.

Hungry for art, starving for financial ease.

All I know to do is keep on working, I have good work, honest work, but it's just not enough--for either aspect.

Have a love I can not feel and a paycheck which disappears in moments and no time to enjoy life with.

Is this all that can be expected of adult hood?

America, where you're free to live in debit; month to month a way from homelessness yet you're still better off then the rest.

Amen.