Berkly lies naked on his
damp couch
chip dust settles into his
chest hair
and buried somewhere between
his legs
lies his half dead prick.
He laughs at every
corruption
and those that think they
all have it figured out
like he does.
The cross carriers
the ones with the invisible
friend
the fools that are holding
everything back.
Berkly shifts his weight
unto his back, staring at the ceiling.
And allows himself to dream.
About the day.
The day certainly coming,
where he, and those like him
the Wise
will finally be running
things.
