Highway of Good Intentions (Hell, it’s Hell)

It's here in the moments where intentions matter most,

Where money moves quicker than mouths and bank accounts go empty.

We're going down.

Down. Down to the bottom of the empty well, where the coins would have been gathered up had I not already gone before, but the savings we had made on wishes and promises of a bright future are long gone now.

Hell.

I try not to cry, cry into my hands spent on every option, on every moment of opportunity that I've attempted to filter through, touching corner to corner for viability in a market so gone that all my investments are crumbling in the mound of dying businesses.

Why?

Why would they be allowed to do this?

Did they not understand that we weren't in a position to pick up where the large corporations left? Empty is their space, now my coffers too.

There was no meeting of the middle.

No agreements and negotiations.

My well is empty, and of all their "good intentions" brings about the downfall of my house and I cannot get out fast enough. So I drag myself up from the well, standing in the barren pocket of valley where mountains demand patronage to pass them out. To go on over them and out. Out. Out.