Sunday, December 4

Journal 14

"He does not possess wealth, it possesses him."
Well that is pretty sad. Superficiality, eat your heart out. This takes "you can't buy love with money" to another level. Basically, the man is so consumed by his wealth it is like selling your soul to the devil. His sight is so fogged, almost blind, to the damage wealth can do to a person. He does not even control his own mind anymore, money does. Brainwashed and sucked dry of the simple free luxaries of life. Buy this, want that, waste on this, on and on and on he swirls in his misery. This black hole enticing him, sucking him down into madness. All he sees is green. A mad man scratching and clawing at the walls, circling his vault of despair. Do not even bother shaking him from this zombie-state, he is not even there anymore. The snake has its deadly clutch on his throat, slithering and whispering in his ear "buy..buy..money..you are wealthy..you are powerful.." but in the end is he really ? Is it worth losing yourself to have the world. To have servants and drivers and waiters bowing down and kissing your feet for your money. No one loves you. No one cares. People are cold and bitter. They want you dead for hopes of earnings in your will. He does not possess wealth. No, no where near. Wealth possesses this demented man, like the "thump thump thump" of the heart beat under the planks of the floor board*.

*Referance to The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allen Poe

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