“Receipts Are My Guitar”

No stage, no crowd, still rock.

I don’t have strings, only a stack of cold, sharp screenshots. I don’t have a mic, only the reports I file again and again.

They call me a harasser? I light the stage on fire: Your umbrella of lies shatters in my rhythm.

Every archive is a chord I slam down. Every post is a drumbeat of defiance.

Rock is not melody— Rock is refusing silence. My truth is the loudest solo.