Converted his words into zeroes and ones
Hunched over, they were his gift to the beyond
He was still giddy at being let in the circle
Becoming privy to words so wise and witty
But of late he couldn't help but notice
He received fewer glances from colleagues in hallways
A sudden drought of pleasantries usually spelt out
Demotion from peer to peasantry
Now the drought had hit his studio home
His letters and calls all seemed to dry up at once
He wrote his friends to ask them why and was
Hit with an avalanche of out of office replies
The very next day in a blind panic he burnt
All of his years of degenerate work
It was too late. the word was out
Round up all moaners and misfits
He must have missed this
Between mither about free sh**
And that mess in the kitchen
On the afternoon when they finally caught up to him
Held his skinny wrists and pushed every bullet in
His thoughts remained fixed on a mysterious list
Of a various faux-pas and their respective dire consequences