I sit at my table,
with a broken pen
and the distinctly profound
inability to buy a new one,
due to lack of
funds.
Or some such bullshit.
I know that my job,
corporation-based,
pays for the pen.
I hate that knowledge.
Because I hate to admit
that I am dependant
on a system I despise,
to stay alive.
The goverment can't help:
I've tried to ask,
but I have been met with
steadfast ignorance, bolstered
by bureaucracy, in all its
self-consuming unglory.

No government will help me,
or a million others.

John Howard?
George Bush?
A question to both of you fuckers.
Who the fuck made you the
kings of our countries?
Certainly not the youth,
Mister Howard.
Certainly not Florida,
Georgie Porgie.

It was the corporate machine,
that I work for,
that bought this pen.

Like a termite at the foundations,
so shall this pen bring you down.

You dirty capitalist pricks.