I am seriously in a bone-chilling, mind-numbing funk
My first inclination is a syringe filled with junk
I did that a few days ago and got very much punk’d
because drugs are all fake now, the real ones defunct.
I wish I could write this in non-rhyming prose
Unfortunate for me, I have too many foes
who would take the shit I write and dance upon their toes
thinking they got me writing the truth, I suppose.
little do they know, even my rhymes are predisposed
to the TRUTH…..no matter the flow..
but idiots, in general, just don’t understand
IAMBIC PENTAMETER….it’s a foreign land
So, my soul is disguised in poems which do suck
written only to feed the weekly garbage truck
I completely understand and I don’t give a fuck.
So cute I would look on the back of the truck…
If you haven’t guessed yet, the author is drunk.