We all owe a debt of gratitude for this here.
In our mid-nights we fly away from bondage
Crying in throats, hoarse with age and love.
Money binds us, men to men, in our women.
Women bind us in our men and in our doing.
That leaves us befuddled, in body and state.
Debt makes us feel creepy in sleeping beds
Like a thousand-legged worm of leg things.
It makes our women cry leaving doors ajar,
As doors will shut for the last time of night. Debt is mere words of men in vacant houses.
Their hollow laughter sounds creepy by night.
Debt is letters that crawl like wiggly worms
From brittle paper, that is fast turning to dust.