The Right Foot

Initially the objective was insurgent art as Ferlinghetti taught

But now I find myself subjecting my Apple-bred oeuvre to hourly cleansings of anything not found on the Pitchfork 500

And abandoning my remaining traces of rhythm due to choice clippings from the advice columns of a cyberpunk yet drab graffiti wall

By aping the bourgeoisie, I surrender my identity-cum-idiosyncrasies.

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