The Jaundice Revolution

With hands gripping our aching guts

we limp across concrete vomit

with a chorus of moans and screams

lining our infected eardrums

Outside the hospital

a sign reads:

“Cover Charge:

$2000”

Look above,

you'll see the sick and poor

tossed from their gurneys

to splatter on the ground below

and the rats will come

dressed as debt collectors

to feast on the cancerous remains

All we have for nourishment

are our own broken bones

washed down with pus

in hopes that it will all

go away

without the need to sign our soul over

to a hit squad of suits

that are torn

from the devil horns growing within