Late night Thursday stream...

Promises piling up...
What to write, who, and when?
The schedule is a nightmare -
Budgeting money with a shoestring income
Seems to hold much less complexity
Then dividing up Time's inexorable march
Between work, play, love, sleep, exercise, eating
And all those clamors for my attention.
Some have said,
"We make time for those who are important!"
I retort,
"Time slips through our fingers,
Like grains of sand, Lost in the stream -
And what you take for ignoring
May just be a casualty,
As my life is falling apart at the seams."
Would I rise up in revolt,
Come this November?
Would you?
All the wealth concentrating at the top,
Makes me sick to my stomach,
Beats me down,
Like a nail pounded into the wood -
My little service jobs
May ease along many to their relaxing beer;
Yet my formerly iron will
Has tuned to a crumbling rust,
And the pieces that I join
Are in danger
Of separation,
Unable to stand together,
Flush with each other.