Gold Digger

She's getting bigger, go figure.

Could be the Smug Drug

Causing bloating from the gloating

Such cunning ability

Beneath a false fragility.

Concentration strain

Of trying to maintain

A one track train

On the quest for gain.

Destination:

Pocketbook fornication

.

'Oh honey,' says she

'Let's become a We.'

Poor spellbound sleeper – He

Wound with net of gauze

No laws of love here I fear.

Soft lure morphs to steel

No feel for real in situation

Of greed gestation

Building captive nest

Where paucity can rest.

She, garbed in gold

Soul sold.

A sad demise

For want of earthly prize

And He, too bound

In velvet ropes to see

The rabid expectation of the We.

© Grapher May 13, 2013