When it's the late night sad hours
And you look back over everything
Everything you did
They did to you
You thought
They said
They thought
You couldn't sayIt really puts things into perspective
Makes you think
I am a storyteller
I tell fables and fairytales
Based off my own life
However loosely so because you can't tell the whole un demonetised truth
I am a real estate agent too
I'm trying to sell these things
Not houses no
Experiences
Memories
Places
Things
Concepts
IdeasThe idea that I was raised fine
That he never laid hands on my psycheI'm really pushing it too
I'm hamming it up with billboards and tv ads
I am making the worst memories
Sellable for profit and admiration
Capitalising on trauma even
I am a writer of this bullshit
And horsefuckeryI am weaving the audience friendly patron unshocking tale
A new take a fresh take and a new fresh fake spin
Showing them what marketing wants them to
Because I'm also an artist
I paint the idea of who I am into people as best as I can
I reinvent
Exclude
Change
Force
Forget
Forge anew my beingIts is a fucking masterpiece
AstoundingRecycling at its finest
Making something so fucking exponentially semi functioning
That exists in the corner of its goals
Never quite there
A tale of pretentious melancholy sequel kafkaesque cow shit fake assholery
I am a postman too
Maybe not in the forefront
ButI deliver this shit too
On time and to everyoneThe same surface level crap
No typo
No deeper meaningSpam mail but a personality
Fraudulent and ignorant to the signs people hang over their mailboxesI know you want no junk mail like me
But you don't know any better this time
YOU ARE READING
Shit rant poems
PoetryThere are so so so many typos and one day, I'll fix them all.....maybe