Spoiler Alert: You Don't Matter

If you need

your thoughts censored,

your verses pixelated,

your metaphors airbrushed —

If you can’t speak of the ugly

that lies beneath

your condom-wrapped sermons

of performative pain

and rented rebellion —

Don’t mistake yourself

for a poet.

Or a prophet.

Or a truth-teller.

Or even a mirror.

Don’t mistake yourself

for anything remotely aligned with art —

because art has always fought

wars of blood and bone

with ruin and rhythm,

palette and pigment,

in C-sharps and G-minors.

Don't mistake yourself 

for someone important

enough to matter. 

You’re not an artist.

You’re not a revolution.

In all honesty

and political correctness,

you’re at your very best

the genitals of Japanese porn.