Never thought
I'd be,
Anything other
Than a
Useless
Drug addict.

But it turns
Out,
I'm alive.

That's somethin.

What skill
Is there
In beauty?

What mastery
Do you need
To make the one thing
Everyone idolizes
Great?

None,
You just need
Signifiers.

A better test
Is to jump in
With something
No one asked for,
Or wanted.

And,
Succeed.

Even if it's a little bit.

But,
I've always been
A one starfish
Kinda guy.

Words are
Always
Real consistent.

Unlike people,
My vagueries
Are intentional.

But,
It all comes from
Somewhere
Authentic.

If only
Hyperbolic.

I don't write
For you,
Normal
Love obsessed
Average
People.

I write for the
Malcontent
Who could never
Really fit in.

The ones where
Life didn't get better,
It got worse.

Someone who
Can relate
To constant negativity.

And,
I find them,
I always find them.

We declare
A niggling doubt
That your positivity,
Is tenuous at best,
While we are consumed
By dark
Thoughts.

Traumatic
Life events.

A dismal dark
Alley way to be
Our bed.

Drugs
And
Violence.

Your problem
Is you wanna see a reflection
Of yourself in other people.

You are,
Entitled.

You are,
Fragile.

You are.
Annoying.

No one even asked
Your *******
Opinion
Or
Approval.

I am exclusive,
Rare,
And nothing
That's available
Or relatable.

Is valuable.