Broken is the bray of the businessman.

His swollen throat, constricted lungs, mis-matched

 Made flat inner organs,

 Exhausted, run.

Suburban immersion,,

 A happy life, 

With wicked strife. 

His mind amidst his ghastly wife-- 

Morose, it turned the wistful a** so hoarse.

Unable to cry out, 

Alas, what has he to pout;

All know,

A beast of burden mustn't shout.

A Nordstrum noose he dawned each day.

Saying meekly:  “Hello sir”-- igonoired, 

Amidst the corporate fray.

A light bulb blinked, unthought before.

Within his mind he sung,

 “I must implore: no longer must the tired pick their poison,

 Sell their soul-- 

 Their only ends to ‘rise’ some more”.

“I should have known”, he scoffed in knowledge, of the fraught--

“ how easily, my mind was bought.”

“How credulous must I have been, 

All these somber nights, retreating to my gin.”

“ I should have known that corner office lie, is hooked like bait and trolled on boat until Us fishes die.” 

Buckled knees, forsaken mind

The mad man walked the wall street 

Plank above the sky.

Look up now and you might see, the symphony of all those 

In silence

Scream so ceaselessly.

“Yes, I spy, walking the airy bridge, above us lie,

 Alas, the dreaming junkie

 Will jump and fly!”