All Scenesters Are on Crack

Just not the kind you smoke in a pipe.
More so the kind they all seem to have their noses shoved up: each other's asses.

With their putrid jargon of “yeah, brother and sister” and all that hippie shit of which I truly despise.

The yuppies count their so-called poetry fame as a garnish as page counts and publications are but the bane of my existence.

As I have no friends, for I barely have a life, and I need false praise like I need the clap.
I hate social media and, make no mistake, I hate you reading this as well.

Unless you're a woman, then you're kinda okay.
Stiff drinks, good music, and even better sex.
I don't need slaps on the back or a hit of your narcissistic untalented asses’ sideways snarky mock praise.

I don't want to hear you read, let alone breathe.

As you question “man, how does this miserable prick exist in the real world?”
As I just got fired from my job as a Walmart greeter.

Apparently it’s frowned upon to tell the elderly and mass brain dead to fuck off.

Needless to say, I'm just not a people person.
Oh well, who wants to snuggle?