Refutations (Echoes Diss)

your names the tell, echo was the nymph who could only repeat what shed heard

narcissus ignored her, kept staring at himself, now read back your whole third

every bar you wrote about me starts with my name and ends with your preferred word

you diagnosed me with your own symptoms, thats projection dressed as a diss, thats absurd

you said I pre excuse when punches miss but melvilles editors said moby dick was dead

called it overwrought, said cut the whales, simplify, give the readers something instead

he didnt, now every MFA program on the planet has that book above their head

so when you play the editor and tell me strip the depth, just know theyre always wrong, thats what I said

you want instant impact? tell that to the crowd that booed stravins off the stage

RoS premiere, a riot broke out, critics called it noise, front page rage

now its canon so your arguments a cage

the crowds reaction in the moment has always been the least reliable gauge

you hammered connection in every closing line like repetition makes a point true

thats epistrophe, gorgias invented it to manufacture feeling without a clue

you used the sophists trick to call ME the one whos hollow through

the rhetorical device you weaponized against depth was itself the proof of what you do

took you thirteen lines to land a two word defense

the bar about not needing setup... needed setup, that shit makes no sense

you used complexity to argue for simplicity, thats your own cost and expense

the irony dont need explaining, the contradictions already too dense

you said I write for admiration of structure, missed the whole design intent

hagia wasnt built for the crowd that stood around the day it went

it was built for the ones centuries forward, staring up in wonderment

you build for the room, I build for what survives when every room is spent

so go connect the crowd, perform the ritual, collect the nods tonight

pauls letters to the churches werent performed in front of anyone in sight

they beheaded him, hes still speaking two thousand fucking years in the light

what have you bled for the craft? a diss that wont exist come saturday night