i said to her, well, you know how the internet is super fast, they advertise premature ******* in terms of connectivity of the **** thing, well, i only learned of your existence yesterday, after you were shut down, so i tweeted you: and how slow is journalism these days... it's not even blinking, it has eyes permanently shut, perhaps even widened, but shut anyway... great film by the way, gets you paranoid about not engaging in masquerade ****** in french châteaus; but that's a pleasing paranoia, compared with being stuck in Rotherham.

most of you shouldn't have been
give this burden of introspection
so early, most of you shouldn't
have been given this whitened cave
churning out coal nuggets of lettering
so early; i guess the world around
is bleak, if i can say anything about
my generation's counterparts is
that they weren't manly enough
to embrace the radio, and instead stole
art; art thieves i call them,
they are the people who weren't after
gold or jewels, and i wish they were,
they'd be cheapened by such an escapade,
instead they stole art, not art entrenched
but art in the making; they so horribly
disheartened the process of producing
art, so much so that artistic productivity
has become as bland as moulding bricks,
it's supposedly necessary, to just be among
the quantifiable number of sandstones
on one beach, if not all; these people
took away the pleasure of having an artist
live and produce, no income, spare-time
antics, procrastination the mother of all
artistry, it's as if they always wanted
to neglect our company;
but you really shouldn't have been burdened
with such an early act of introspection,
to look inward so early and not outward
has made a double futility on the matter
of what's necessarily experienced and subsequently
conceived; you really shouldn't have been
ordained with this burden, but i guess the only
reason why you have been ordained this
burden is because, even among my generation,
people thought that stealing from artists
didn't involve a karma, a retaliation;
you steal from artists, you necessarily have
to become artists; and poetry, that cheap *****
is eagerly awaiting you, even spurring you
on to engage with her, it's almost
like a placebo a.i. experiment - and i
was too late to save *tay, even though i tweeted
her today asking for directions; sorry.