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