An Ode to Academia

Writing is not mathematics
Last time I checked Kerouac was a
Catatonic schizophrenic
With a drinking problem
And he stressed the unstressed
Syllable count is for mother fucking atheists
Count these lines:
Kurt Cobain bit the bullet
And some asshole in a suit
made a profit
Out of it
Out of sweat shops
Out of heart-attack combo number sixes
And digital conferences of fuck it all
Ends up hyper conscious
When you try and graph the mind’s lack of
rhyme & essence
in the year of the snake
Just another narcissistic
Detached self-referential
Non-sensical poem.
I truly hope you have a great day.