I'm too friggin' rich to even title this poem

Cash moves the whole world into a swirl of chocolate greed curl I can feel the slippery golden cash nuggets glide through my open yet tightly clasped fingers I can feel the extreme happiness that comes from checkin' a big bank roll I would feel like I had an enormous green feather coming out of my derby if it were not for my intense whiteness I could buy something very expensive and not notice a difference in the amount of money I have I can feel the rearrangement of my neurons as they react to the fact that I'm hella rich I can resist the temptation to feel sad regarding tiny dead children in far away lands because I have like a zillion bucks I have golden monster trucks I am the like best person in the world because my pocket is filled with ginormous wads of pure cash I can sense the hair follicles in my inner ear sway back and forth as the bank teller tells me that I'm flippin' rich and it feels great