the sellout

there once was a painter,
a writer,
a singer,
who painted a picture,
wrote a novel,
sang a song,
and someone loved it soooooooooo much
that they told said individual
that they’d give em’
some moola for it---
from then on,
the painter, writer, singer
painted the same painting over & over again,
wrote the same novel over & over again,
sang the same song over & over again,
making a career out of trying to sustain that feeling
of perceived
ACCEPTANCE
which came with the self-exploitation of one’s own
idea &
they
died
crying
in
a
puddle
of
their
own
mediocrity.