Staring at a blank page
Why won’t my brain fit into you?
Poetry’s my new ****
I hope the cleanup’s easy
Jazzy enterprises
It’s time for some improv.
Do I look like a **** to you?
I say to my stepmom
If I wanted my comeback
I’d get it off your mom’s chin.
I love it now,
That faded, stupid grin.
Go **** your high horse,
I bet it’ll reach you.
Horses have big *****
Like the people who win web arguments
Congrats to you,
Oh ye fake SOB
Shakespeare, rather queer
Bites his thumb at thee
I can’t say I enjoy this
Painting on paper
Words being the brush
To which I’m engaged by
I’m doing this for you
You better know
I find no joy in this
Like war on veteran’s day.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 6:02 PM UTC
Staring at a blank page
Why won’t my brain fit into you?
Poetry’s my new ****
I hope the cleanup’s easy
Jazzy enterprises
It’s time for some improv.
Do I look like a **** to you?
I say to my stepmom
If I wanted my comeback
I’d get it off your mom’s chin.
I love it now,
That faded, stupid grin.
Go **** your high horse,
I bet it’ll reach you.
Horses have big *****
Like the people who win web arguments
Congrats to you,
Oh ye fake SOB
Shakespeare, rather queer
Bites his thumb at thee
I can’t say I enjoy this
Painting on paper
Words being the brush
To which I’m engaged by
I’m doing this for you
You better know
I find no joy in this
Like war on veteran’s day.
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