Leviathan/Quarterback: Thesaurus Artichoke

Can an Earthling prince find a 'light' for expressions of (actual) self-fortune?

A narrative lyric about eco-capitalism superstition and bad-sportsmanship imagery, inspired by varied comics about capitalism I like. Hope you like, 

DISCLAIMER: This work of creative fiction contains images/references with no ties to any person(s)/body and is (therefore) cast as purely a 'personal' expression for social art (for 'open' material/views). 

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I was drinking absinthe. I was drinking it quite a bit. I'd become an eco-vigilante in my own mind, robbing rumored/insured blood-diamond storages in North American banks invested in by fatso-hands for conflict-zone smugglers roadways exploitations laughter for mod-Earthling rogue finances/arms of leviathan (or uncertainty!). I'd become my own special hero, an athlete-man of the liquid-asset controls of capitalism-race paranoia, and I was having dreams of being contacted by a dark-side messenger, some blood-immortal, perhaps a vampire, for my Selfie-age of fortune-commentary for the Ego (damn).

This specter insisted that I was in deeds some kind of actual vampire or blood-immortal. Why'd I be able to resist such an insistence? After all, I'd become something of a Robin Hood daredevil, using bank-teller lades as mock-hostages for bank-box media photo claims for street-insurance theater, and using my prop water-guns (filled with restroom-made HCL) to make burns/swaps with glass-animal toys for insurance-notes reading, "Selfie-prepaid stunt by owner of company/boxes for rumors of blood-diamond circulations of great Earth social media laughter for the English (for all!)." I was in my own delusion of grandeur, fueled by my vampire-specter contact dream-sleep visions for the Ego (damn).

INTERPOL: "Blood-diamond traffic/gossip is 'rogue' finance woe for journals."

Was I the Robin Hood QB of capitalism super vision suddenly/somehow? Why was I having these (lucid) dream-images of vampirism and specters of the dark-side messaging me about incomplete-distances readings of the leviathan (or uncertainty!) of manmade bureaucracy-arts for Western banks/shores? I had to ask. I decided to quit and retire and became a junior-football coach in New England (Boston-town!) and turned all my energizer-IQ to the education of tomorrow's investors/captains of this Earth capitalism journal of perfect marketing for the soul (damn).

GIRLFRIEND: You need music-therapy, not vampire hallucination, darling!

ME: I guess that's especially true for real art, ha.

GIRLFRIEND: What's this claim you're Robin Hood now?

ME: Maybe I'm just a 'leviathan-quarterback' of the American Homeland, darling.

GIRLFRIEND: Creativity soothes the paranoia-beast of incomplete Hell, sir.

ME: I'm swimming in darkness, eh?

GIRLFRIEND: Without image (ok?).

ME: Thanx.

"Doing well is the result of doing good. That's what capitalism is all about" (Ralph Waldo Emerson). 

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"Money is everything" (Ecclesiastes)