Neckline of Plagarism

To crave is to be human
In-patience for what is craved is a consumers life.
I bought into my beliefs before I ever controlled them.
How to break free?
How to be the change I want to see in the world?
Idealism bought and sold.

I see life on television in technicolor.
I desire it!
I am sold without knowing of why.
Science, psychology, and sociology blend to be philosophy.
They are tools of the capitalist
now and forever the new holy pursuits.

I don’t see a career as a writer anytime in my future.
I see a life of toil, misunderstanding the misanthropic , and troubled drunken nights filling me to the core.
I would rather just keep writing and dying daily in this skin.
I don’t call it lazy, or even that I do not think my words hold weight.
I am the future and to the present these words will not due.

So I keep scribbling and occasionally announce myself as a writer.
I will be buried under these words and to that ink I leave my life as a fulfillment of a sad destiny.

I am an artist on display
I am a creator of worlds and wars on the page.
I am a plagiarist of drunken days of fate.
I know not these words,
they have been said elsewhere by better men.
An orator of fate is my case,
a preacher of the past, and not of hate.
I will fall victim to a beautiful neckline and soft skin as a testament to originality.


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