Have I ever had
an original thought?
I've been told
that, 'Everything we ever
write is just an accumulation
of all we've ever read,'
or something
like that.

I don't remember
by who, but I've cited him
Chicago Style
in my heart.

It started young, with my name.
Permanent ink on the soul,
a cliche. I hated
hearing it,
over used and
haphazardly
picked out of
a book.

If I have children,
they won't suffer from recycled
personality disorder. I'll
start them off right,
give them names
that don't
exist yet.

One in a sea
of Lindseys. My
post-modernism
lost-cause syndrome
in itself
is unoriginal.

How can I write
in stream of consciousness
with two decades of
songs stuck in
my head?

This isn't new, I've always
plagiarized while I dreamt
of you, hallucinated
my creativity, now I can't
even picture you without
sappy lyrics
sticking to your
clothes.

I am merely stealing like
an artist, another concept
I stole, brilliant,
but don't
thank me.