Moral Inventory

I have the real thing,
strutting around.
Head to toe, I know...
I measure my worth
based on the value of my clothes.

I have a ton of gadgets,
I have a bunch of clothes.

My wallets empty,
my wallets worth more than me.
In the mirror,
I see the reflection of my clothes.

Each morning I take inventory,
fearless and searching,
head to toe, I know,
I have the real thing...
(for those who know)

Who am I?
Where am I going?
All the while this great wind carrying.
I make a bold statement.
A Man, who has a place to go.

Late night's journey,
sprinting upon the blurry scene,
every two steps stumbling,
on a straight white line
that leads to nothing.

In the mirror,
a reflection, obscuring
a dirty nose.

I have a ton of gadgets,
I have a bunch of clothes.

onbrownpaperbag

What if they found you, naked
in the hole you've been hiding?
You wouldn't say anything.

All the stars in the sky,
and you didn't reach for one.
All the branches of a tree,
and you couldn't cling to one.

Washed up before beginning,
giving away your crumbs.

You crept, not back
but into the shadows.
No one hears from you.
You eat or drink or piss
to pass the time.
You seemed to have stopped caring.

The city's all flash and no substance.
The women are on the prowl.
Immerse yourself into a role
you once only planned to play -
you lose yourself in it everyday.
The city and you are the same.

The room gets quiet every night.
The music's over,
and the sensations have gone.
Self absorption gets you
a public access station.
Whiskey comes stiff and early
in the morning;
It dulls your bleary mind,
as you broadcast your daily special.