I grope for the wallet that’s slipping
Away from my grasp
With every passing minute.

How many have despaired at their
Weakness yet relished the
Rush the new bring?

I’ll feel better, look nicer, live longer
After this, I mutter
To assuage the guilt.

The temporal rules when it
Comes to the aisles of gleaming
Churches of human want.

Beauty is skin deep no matter
How convincing the wise are
When they admonish.

For even them, I believe, sometimes
Found an exception to the rule.
Just as I always have.

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