exhausted by the boa
the snake that’s got me
i fight to breathe a little
but I know
as soon as I exhale
as soon as I sleep
it will tighten again
tighter than before
around my chest
its cold skin so hard
and I would fight
yes I would fight
if I could catch my breath
if I could catch a break
instead my vision blurs
and I fear
the snake is winning
and all that waits for me
is a desperate death
upon my dying breath

O Capitalism, thou snake—
the boa around my neck