F. Competitive Bastard

Competitive Bastard

If Wendy is the benchmark then I've got a chance:
She and I should shoot the breeze and maybe dance.

I've done this sort of thing before with other authors:
Set them up to shoot them down and mock the carcass.

I've loved to recognise and splutter, 'Well they're not that
good,
Just look at the immortalising praise that's set their name in
wood'
Look at the man-hours which now humble, dedicate themselves
To looking at and lauding, writing essays, putting books on
shelves.

I want to be a most important author, but there're so few names
Whose work out there - so durable?I'll mimic it. So. Arthur?
James?
Your cans stay up there as I spray my bullets like a Liberian
child,
Without skill but with mad commitment, flippancy for life, and
wild.

So going back to Wendy?

I'd like to be the mad bad one she beds perhaps.
But then I seem to read her as a beauty - twenty-something Plath.

She'd spend a night with me and just think, 'What a clown.'
And then straight off the back of it I do my best to do her down.

To undermine your rivals is a natural thing -
Disable quietly just behind their back when they can't hear you
sting.

Maybe all abuse should be up front and loud, I think that's it.
To all the other authors reading this, I think your work is

Not worthy of publication.