I think Basquiat is part of the problem.

He made you graffiti artists,

think you have something to say.

But now we know… you can make money

doing this thing. You like money too much.

You’re playing live action roleplay.

Trying so hard to be something you’re

not. For attention for affection. But 

your coffee shop mural is empty.




It speaks generationally of what art has become.




That robots produce it, seduce large audiences, 

that even Basquiat couldn’t’ve imagined.

With no heroin involved.




No girl to fuck on

who then leaves

and sells your fridge

to get her lick off.

      

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