Not as ambitious as Dom's or Allison's, but my unemployment benefits are
about to run out:
Financial Analysis
It seems I have the kind of tic
That busied Sigmund Freud,
For once again I've bought a house,
Then joined the unemployed.
He'd claim these walls that shelter me
Must mean my Mother's womb
From which my Father's banned by Death,
That I'm her guilty groom.
But I'm not blind -- no matter how
Engrossingly complex,
Self-knowledge is no substitute
For earning steady checks.
|