bad thought of the day

my art is shit

my writing is shit

this is never going to work out

i should kill myself

nobody will read this

nobody will understand why this is funny

nobody will understand why this is ironic

nobody will understand why this is not a cry for help

that this is me
blissfully pissing into my backyard paddling pool of primordial doom and gloom
defiantly sticking up my middle-finger into the ugly face of fatalism
and screaming a thick black felt tip FUCK YOU! to anybody who ever doubted it

don’t ever doubt it

because here’s the truth

i’m better than you. i’ve got better taste. in film, in music, in literature, in women, in men. in every fucking thing. my life choices are better than yours. my hair is better. my cock is better. i’m better at sex than you, at writing, at art, at cooking, cleaning, and cursing.

your boy/girlfriend wants me.
you want to be me.

you also want me.

i’m a better person than you
i’m a stronger person than you
and while you wallow in the hippo-shit river of your hopeless mediocrity

i’m high up here
listening to adagio in g minor
conducting thin air

and not thinking
a single thought
about you