There's An Odd Future Ahead by Eric Sparks

They want a story with glory of epic proportions

to satisfy the minds of the academic historians. So
I write every word with meaning like I'm laying there bleeding
and then blow across the pages so that the ink will dry even.
Every decision I make is weighed on a scale;
is this the path of the great writers or am I simply derailed?
Stupid questions exist: have I already failed?
Are the rest any better? They miss the details. 
I inhale then exhale and then impale Moby Dick.
I'm bigger than whales, what the hell, I want to be the best.
I'll make Melville confess, Eric wins every contest. Then I'll box
with Mark Twain until he remembers my name and I'll fight every
great writer until they all are impressed. Just remember my generation is next;
and I'll remember that life is more than a test.
I can't digest the request from these scholarly fools;
check my toy chest, I know the Wild West, but only a few tools.
I've invested in the protests of the suppressed and repressed; life is crude,
full of rules and ran by the cruel; that, my peers will attest.
I also write truths, I'm obsessed with the tea. I'm possessed
by the weed, but you should be impressed, I'm still a success
to every degree. Keep tabs on my progess and watch the flaws I address.
I'll grow until I'm the biggest bird in the cuckoo's nest.   



Fuck, why wouldn't I want my books in every library;

if they would, the whole world could read my diary.

Take a stroll through my life, everyday I invite you.

Walk through my mind and watch every cycle.