I spent my whole life till now drawing and dreaming

 that i could follow my passion of art, 

work hard, keep your head up and you'll pull through, the american mantra,

the good will of western society will smile on you ect. ect. 

but I'm more fixed than free and I was born that way 

because I have to pay to work 

and I have to work to pay

 for the very air I breath,  

as my asthmatic lungs contract I'm reminded 

(smilingly) 

that I don't have the

"luxury"

 as those older than me would say,

in proud tones that promote Hard work, Real work, what "Pays"

but to be a starving artist in ways not a choice,

because if I could choose I would go to school, but it's work now or more later 

on loans that collect interest like flies on a corpse

shot down by what seems like dark fate

In cold allyways

 in acceptance or resistance,

the bullet doesn't discriminate, but it's aim does

for instance

the corpse is the lower middle class

and I believe that it's because I wasn't born into a perfect family, 

one that makes enough money

 to give me everything

Because they still owe

Green printed promises that fall out of pockets to be caught between rotting leaves in drains 

faded in the light rainfall 

trickle down economics in action

and my reaction is that it's

water torture

What's the point of it all in that way? Can't I say;

 till my last breath, I'm all and all, 

 I would give my heart to have equality in education

equality at all

But the federal government asks 

Are your parents together? 

Check. 

But they don't ask if its

Heavy whether there, not worth the thunder

 and I hit the road last summer,

 I've been on my own but I stayed out of the shelters

and that was my mistake according to my financial aid officer

because I know no one to vouch for my independence

 but I was scared of the darkness there in the average human's sentence

I hid between the pages of my sketchbook from that prison.

And when I dream I am free and work is work for 

you, me,

and everybody, anybody, this is the home of the free

But then I wake, 

and I believe

that Intersectionality means that if anyone in the world is oppressed,

than I am not free, because that system of power is aloud to exist, and I resist

but my body is like glass but I'm shouldering my world

As my lungs contract again,

again.

So if I could change anything I would change my situation

The situation of so many lower middle class somehow slipped through the cracks

I would send us all to school so that the voice we promise ourselves 

(in shivering

 shaking 

whispers 

under leaky roofs 

at night,

or nicely furnished apartments, 

or sprawling glittering mansions)

 we all as Americans have,

Our freedom,

our freedom of speech,

could be heard.