Artistic Denial

The young woman walks into the studio and sits down
I've decided I want to be a poet
The old man looks at her
My advice to you is
Don't
She looks taken aback
Why wouldn't I want to write poetry
It's the elite form of art
Painting with words
Breaking the rules
Being totally free
Pure expression
The old man shakes his head
Forget poetry
Learn how to write a song instead
Her eyes flash
I'm not writing any fucking songs
I don't want to be no fucking Bob Dillon
The old man grins
What's wrong with him
He's almost a poet
In fact
A lot of people think he is
She lets out a long sigh
A lot of people are fucking morons
Poetry stands on it's own without music
Almost doesn't make you a poet
It makes you a songwriter
The old man shakes his head
There is life in songwriting
Nothing in poetry
It's dead
This pisses her off
Fuck you old man
You just paint
What the hell do you know about poetry
And what the fuck do you care
The old man looks even older
It's art
I care about all forms of art
He lays down his brush
Smears some red paint across his brow
Poetry is the art of pain
The art of death
There is no fame
Glory
Money
Or any other reward
Just anger
Bitterness
Depression
Frustration
And any other miserable emotion you can come up with
If you want to be a poet
Kill yourself now
Get it over with
Save yourself a lot of grief
She smiles at him
I'll be a happy person when i'm a poet
I'll be the best fucking poet you've ever seen
I'm willing to sacrifice
Pay the price
I'll even sell my ass on the street
If that's what it takes
Don't worry about me old man
I can handle it
The world hasn't met me yet
The old man shrugs
If you're a poet
It never will
At least not until you're dead
And only then if you're lucky
The woman with no name flashes a wicked grin
If I was lucky
I wouldn't be a poet