written as a movie-lover by jake kilroy.
the film student died
trying to explain the human condition,
trying to ignore what is and what could be,
besting himself at traveling through the void
known as "the world according to me,"
before coughing up the pride he swallowed
and the humor he left out to mourn.
oh, how the theater never understood him,
when he made the popcorn
and cleaned the projector.
he sadly died in a fire
when he burned all the rom-coms
and horror flicks
and english language dramas
that weren't born to an art house.
he loved fellini before woody allen
and had a snide remark to make
in the balcony of a lonely premiere.
tragedy struck when he laughed
and didn't know what it meant,
all before a dizzying all-nighter,
when he watched the most underrated film,
that los angeles ignored,
that new york city buried,
that cannes wouldn't even touch.
to give him what he wanted,
they left him on the cutting room floor,
snipped and snapped,
the deleted scene,
the odd man out,
blacklisted as
the oldest joke
in hollywood.
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