Williaaaaaaaaaaaaaam.
Billy.
Shakes.
Like a bad horror movie,
D-Lister garbage.
Like cousins of mine.
I’m coming for you;
Old Man!
Nine Hundred & Ninety Nine Bottles Of Beer On The Wall;
& Counting Down From A Thousand!
Poem by poem,
Clawing my way to your eclipse.
Nobody will know.
Few’ll care.
Is it sad?
That I’ll accomplish in five years –
What took him a lifetime of art?
Is technology to blame?
My hunger far more infinite,
Than his ever was?
Unbound from flesh,
For decades.
Trauma response vindications of Dissociation.
Still,
Makes me a more prolific artist than him,
I guess?
So…
Fuck you;
William Shakespeare.
Art = Transformation.
Stories told,
Altered,
Millions of times across species.
Is Art merely:
Quantitative Reflection;
Upon EVOLUTION amongst us sentients?
I’m no archaeologist.
Only dabbled!
Gonna TRANSFORM you,
Billy.
Become my stepping stone,
To hunt ever higher.
Fuck You; William Shakespeare.
