I come up with some boffo concepts, fans,
for movies. I should make a billion bucks.
But no one in the business understands
my genius. They are all closed-minded fucks.
Hollywood, in my estimation, sucks–
and Hollywood thinks I suck even worse.
Circumstance from my raging spirit plucks
its fire. My brilliance is, alas, a curse!
Well, screw the cinematic universe
and all its hangers-on, fit to be scorned!
Their shibboleths I shall not now rehearse.
By my experience I’m amply warned.
My movie concepts rise into the air.
I turn them into sonnets, fans. So there.