thoughts of a dying millionaire

a million bucks is expensive sadness
I used to have it,
but now the thought breeds madness.
here you are dear,
I finally bought you that red dress.
my desires conspired
to create a mess.
simple pleasures
vanished into the night
while anxious treasures
never leave my sight.
greed leads to greed leads to wealth.
wealth=paranoia=detrimental health.
misplaced fortunes & feelings of despair
not to worry love,
the private jet can take us there.
surrounded by millions
of your closest friends,
& kicking the bucket
exclusively in the end.