Sunday, July 18

cut it out.
your self-afflicted pain is getting too routine
(the crowds are catching on).
here we go again.
yeah, what a hit.
you gotta sink to swim.
we all know art is hard
(artists have gotta starve).
keep churning out those hits
until it's all the same old shit.
tired of entertaining,
drunk and angry slurs,
still you gotta sink to swim,
immerse yourself in rejection.
the bottom line?
art fucking sucks hard,
i swear i'd live for the art
and the art alone and all that
noble crap-ass,
but college loans...
salmon teriyaki habit...
and i want some
motherfucking cable.
that's where emo comes in.
(lines from cursive's "art is hard," aka cry me a fucking river, and some beau sia poem about selling out. in it he also mentions "fucking like the kama sutra come to life" (or something like that) and "tell my ass where you want it and i will bend over." when performing the piece on hbo's def poetry jam, he wore a pink turtleneck and skin-tight pants. he's not gay.)


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