If It Begins

If it begins with a quote, I won't read it.

If it begins with a anything, I won't read it.

I hate literature that they pour into our minds

In the schools and in the parks and in the pretty, fancy dresses.

I hate ALL OF IT.

Until I go home.

Then I Love It.

Isn't it funny? Bukowski, you fool. You published over 50 books of prose, novels, novellas, poetry, and other things with pretty and official names. But what were you doing? You were writing your mind on paper. On paper goes the human mind, and the money from desperate housewives goes to people who aren't you and you buy wine and beer. Bukowski, you'd hate me. I'm 15, I'm a girl, and I try to be not-me.

You know what I love about artists?

The true artists are the ones who have a genre unto themselves. They do not affiliate with a stereotype and feel the need to stick to it- LEST THE MASSES HAUNTINGLY WALK OFF WITH THEIR MONEY AND FAME! They find the scraps and remnants (I hate that work--too 7th grade) and compile some variation (6th grade--and impressive) of the works. They do it to escape the gnashing of teeth they endure as an artist. They sit there, stewing in their issues and dramatized moments of the past, they gnash and gnaw. The artist cannot escape. They can write. They write. It's the genre I call "This-Is-My-Mind." No rules, no punctuation (should you deem it so-- e e jr!), no spell check. The mind does not filter; the pen does. Aesthetics do, for the sake of themselves, their reputations! The years of history and graves and papers intercoursing with pens cannot be disgraced! We are like little children with the capacity to wonder and to defy our parents. What? I sound young. Can't have it. Can't have it.

Genre: subjective.

Subjective: 10th grade, honestly.

I'm a sad, sad, lonely person. As I laugh.