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letra de overly meta inside baseball art house short - killvongard

honeymoon
vinegar son
22 witnessing love disintegrate into pictures of stuff
interesting moments of visceral passion depicted in millimeters of yesteryear vintage threads
flare in the blistering sun
i wrote my thesis in blood
standing o at cannes
domestic canned laughter
just a reason to get in a tux
and leave in a limo
then remain in limbo
insignificant like bug brains on the window
ask the driver for a pharmacist
wrote a new script
said if he can get it made i’d get a part in it
gave him my
agent’s
assistant’s
email

third building on the left, please

all i wanted was some recognition
not like this
this sucks
nowadays i take a compliment like
a bad joke
that i wrote
my accomplishments ripened way quicker than expected now they’re sitting on my counter all black and blue
fruits of my labor in the trash
that contusion on my gratitude came from you
motherf-cking cynical elitists
in the middle of a theater
throwing drinks at the screen like: “this should be deleted!”

never picked the camera up
never put the pen down
i’d rather die van gogh
not one guy with
sh-t crown who did that one thing one time
this ends now

our protagonist thought it poetic to pen his suicide note in the form of a well crafted journalistic criticism
and lay it atop his stack of newspaper clippings of critiques of his modern adaptation of “the invisible man”

that ———– was sure a strange fella
i think he was a writer
i used to hear him scream at thin air like his wife
his pessimism drove her away like nightrider
i kinda saw it comin
idle hands
turned him lipstick face
bumpin tiny tim
refer to g*nius for the reference
this what happens when your
idol hands
you a whiskey stained c-cktail napkin
with a message of encouragement scribbled on it
to his life:

——- was as delusional as he was ambitious
he never quite found his audience
a posthumous cult like following was his vision
an obvious disciple of vincent
i’d love to break it to him if i could
cliché, non effective
pseudo ground breaker
cheap skate only count on you to count paper
these days i don’t follow you to find greatness
each day a thousand yous can make you outdated
he freeze framed a moment of eminence
his dismay
a brief case, quarter of whatever she say, a jot, last shot, rotten review later and he was
dead

- killvongard

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