there is a mole in the office

and I am he



posted too distant from my core

agency,



now eyeing



the paper chopper

or whatever you call it



the directive today

says



grab the first Money Man

you see

and give it his hand



according to the cube farm's

economy

the drones will simply

pass,

oblivious to the looping blood ribbons

and strangled cries



or, if you are taken,

you become more powerful

the moment their alleged

authorities

bind you



in the moment

of your questioning

may



your eyes fill

with black blood



may your palm lines skein up



glowing

blue and rose



bloodshot

with electricity



yeah yeah yeah



but, oh well,

fuck all that



i wish all that grass out there was the smokable

this morning; i would be



blasted

out there



in the rain