I Don’t Work

“Hey Albert? I see you’re home. The toaster’s workin. The oven’s workin. Why you not workin?” – Albert Sr.

What is it about working that seems so detestable? Why is work so despicable? My brothers, our sisters are working. Why don’t we believe we should work?

We must want to be broken. If we don’t work then we can only be broke. The opposite of working is broken. We must fix ourselves.

Who are we that we are so above working? Or are we beneath working? Is it not cool to be working? Well then I don’t want to be cool. I wanna be warm if working isn’t cool. Warm sounds fine.

You said, “I don’t work.” I heard you my brother. I listened to what you said to me. Did you hear yourself? Did you listen to what you said to me? You said you don’t work. You left something out at the end.

You forgot to mention that you’re broke.

Who fixes you? If you don’t work and you manage to live throughout each day with food clothing and shelter then someone must be fixing you. Everyday someone works to fix you.

One day they won’t want to fix you my brother. You will either have to work and fix yourself, or die broken.

You should work Black man. Men should work. If men don’t work then how will everyone survive? You’re a man, right?