A Fork Stuck In My Ribcage Poem by Theorem The Truth Serum

Do you really need a boat bigger than most houses
to enjoy yourself in life?
Do you?
I feel sad if you do,
because that chunk of money used;
could save lives,
could stop wars,
could build schools (for kids without them) ,
or millions of other helpful ideas.
I know it is not right to judge,
but sometimes I can't help but speak out
about what I am against.
How can people spend so much money on something
that is fleeting like a one night stand?
What does it do for them?
I would like to know and I am sure I am not the only one.
If I was,
I would shut up as if I did not have a tongue.
These thoughts don't spring from jealousy,
they spring from decency,
because poetically, I am inquisitive towards these rich derivatives. That make money off the walking impulsive convulsions.
Out of the womb pulsing,
to grow into your money making obsession, impressive.
Slaves to the obsessive greedy accomplishment aggressive.
Looking up as I lay on a plate with a fork stuck in my rib cage,
I am left with this all to contemplate.