Not even the will to care how this reads
My audience is myself, I cater to only me
And this evening, I loathe my spectator.
Away with your idle chatter, your pedestrian talk
I rule my solitariness, I own my speak
Not a word to me of your stale fancies
You can dispute my repute all you want
I refuse to house your half-baked head;
there's only room for my own.
Your banalities are not mine
My wonders are not yours, so be it.
I dictate this malevolence to myself
I will not entertain you, so be gone!
Away with this world;
I've endured enough.