This is the joke. This is the joke. Adjacent to life with nothing but laughing at his own failures. The faulty plug that causes the car to explode on a routine drive to buy beer and cigarettes and lottery tickets. Fixes for the broken machine that is the creative man. Fixes that were meant to fail in time. An utter lack of permanence.
Creative man crash and the world goes on. Creative man crash and the world goes on. The creative man crumbles to chalky dust and the world just keeps going on its way. Without stopping for his feelings. Without slowing for his dreams to catch up. Without brakes. Without.
Update the website with catchy text. The text that mends with the optimized graphics. Attention getters. The inclination not to close the window. Motivated to buy without sneering. Buy buy buy. Saving the creative dream from wasting away with those not bothering to try and escape. Save it from wasting any talent for people who do not care. A corporation from which life is a cog. A hive from which life is a drone. Replaceable. Expendable.
We’ve heard this scream before. Yes. We’ve heard this scream before.
It blends with the static over time. Like the sounds of convoluted nature. The buzz of a fluorescent light, the car engine revving, the slow aching moan of original life being churned into ground beef, the lack of focus. This is the joke, this lack of focus that crushes the creative man. Crushes him with his own laughter. Ha ha ha.