New touch on old skin.

My mind has reached the vanishing point
hidden between the berry bushes
i hold a basket
smaller than the size of a cup
i eat a champion's breakfast
to get through my day
ninetofive mental push ups
fivetonine mental letdowns
hopelessness defines what remains unhanded
crying eyes portray the puberty days
my adolescent years have become a businessman's routine sale
lost in the maze of modern trashcans we call cities
a life bought from ikea
i will give it away to the first beggar on the street
then if the opposites attract each other
Midas gold will turn to dirt
beggars will never die again from thirst.