the grains have changed

my mouth is sugar coated with monologue no one wants to buy anymore. maybe we should all just start a club called "somebody else" and in it, we will pick and choose from whom we wish we were, in order to finally live out our dreams. until mom calls us home for dinner. one day i will run. one day i will find the plot. execute the dreams of past fighters in elegant precision. and then, i will be the king of the world. i will rule the world wtih an apostrophe in one hand, and pencil and pad in the other. say what you will i'll. i've got the apostrophe. but for now. everyone here can just call me the boy who proof-reads his own suicide note. it decay's in my brain. so i spell out my finesse with anticipated spite. ready to go out in a bang. i'll set it down, go grab the toaster, and aim for the tub. something nags tho. something pulling at the back of my brain beckons me to abstain. there is a greater problem then my own hand held, chordless, new age misery. perhaps i've journeyed a little too deep into the darkness of my own futility. i've overlooked the roots of the generation that has grown to become my true error. possibly, just maybe, could i have, not punctuated the final sentence in my note, am i missing an exclamation mark. have i too many. what about question marks, should i end it in rhetoric. like the kind old billy shakes would smile upon. shoot. what about spelling. have i misspelled my hate. does my contempt lack diction. i wish i could now make the letters i type, at this exact point of the entry, fade from being letters, into jibberish, and finally into specs of nothing. as to end a concept dryly. in accordance. we have stumbled upon the gold mine of mass produced relic. feeling so alone in your insight, secluded with your hate in your corner. silly rabbit. stretch out your arms and feel the same sweaty glimmer from the others right beside you. never think your alone. never think your different. if you don't support the conformity that holds society together, flee this pit, this pen of swines. but don't be scared when you find yourself, in yet another pen. you see. you're in the 'different' pig pen now. the 'original' 'against the grain' 'unique' pen. but don't fool yourself. once again, you're suffocated by a million other little piggys. you didn't look far enough ahead. being different has been commercialized far beyond the wildest dreams of any of my product endorsement companies. you can no longer be unique without doing it along side some other asshole that thinks the exact same thing. now how different does that make you really. most of the stupid aspiring ignorant pigs here don't realize they've already been branded again. they've made the most concious efforts to avoid the assimilation we all know and love. but in doing so, they've been labelled yet again. everyone else is doing it kiddies. you're nothing special anymore. stop fighting it. the overpopulated rate of stylistic consumption will soon devour your 'originality' and brand it,'the same' because that's what it is. usually just means al us pigs in here are a bit more funny looking. the name on the front of our new shit hole reads... "it's all been done before" stop relying on your own appeal. start realizing you will never make it a second if you can't think for yourself. and thinking for yourself class, has NOTHING to do with how you look or act. or how different you think you are. it's called discovering how your own brain works. stop trying to make the eyes of the critic glow. it's hopeless. the summary at the end of this book reads, "Being Unique means Being the Same" "It's all been done before"

"the grains have changed"