And so now I've finally become a cliche
Just feeling ******* lost and alone
Wanting to write angry hurt poetry
But not being able to
Because my muses are dead
And my meter has failed
My wit has run off with the director
Like the ***** that it was
My rhyme cannot find its way back
And in a selfish way it doesn't want to
All the creative bits of my brain
Are flipping me off
I took them for my friends
Possibly the only ones I had
But they are bored with me
All the fun
The motivation
The happiness
Is just leaking out of my head
And I'm trying to keep it in there
I'm trying to jam a pencil in my ear
So that none of this will fall out
So that the me I like will endure
So that the cowardly ****-face
That resides deep within
Will remain buried
I can't go out tomorrow with a smile
I can't lie because I've lost the capacity
My ability to improvise deserted me
I can only occupy space unhappily
I can only drain
I am a leech now
And I will feast
As I lose my mind