twenty four and desperate
to survive
living off leftovers
from the generous
old catholic man
down the street
and scraps found
on half eaten plates
left for me to [clean]
in the dishroom, I make
minimum wage
en[slave]d
graciously accepting
government sanctioned handouts
pursuing a career
I know I'll be great at, but
unsure
if I'll love
still rotating the same three outfits
my parents bought me six years ago

I was a kid
I still feel like a kid with
human need
adult responsibility
immigrant work ethic
typical anglo
pretty white boy

grew up affluent
three course organic
whole foods meals
served on proverbial silver platters
full tank of gas
I never worked a minute
or spent a dime
privately educated
religious background
surrounded
by trust fund babies
day one release
first generation
jailbroken iphone
learned how to [self]ie
ten years ago
trips to California, Florida, New York
premium
entertainment and apparel

my dead grandmother
my private education
my new bad habit
my rehab
my monster tw[i]n brother
ate the money.
[i]t disappeared

new poor
fighting to live
ex-mental patient
nuthouse [survivor]
two years drug free.
two years
drug free my mind
brains
out of chains

anxious, but
fearless
fear. less.
success is not [A]
letter on a transcript
piece of paper in a wallet
amount of zeros on a bank statement
not a pony emblem
or a collared shirt

it's satisfaction in grit.
unattainable
enlightenment
in the struggle
to attain it

I could care less about
six shared posts
five favorited tweets
four [follow]ers
three reblogs
two liked [self]ies

#nofilter:
[I am]
to quote a wise roommate
[one] cut and dry mother fucker.