THIS IS NOT A POEM
This is a piece of garbage.
Please. Pay attention.
If this were a real poem, I'd be sending out a mass email about it. If this were a real poem I'd care if words were right. If it were a real poem I'd have to do something subtle and arguably referential but not too referential.
Particularly involving a megaphone.
This is not a fucking poem. Because I've told you.
This is a piece of garbage. This a fucking sweat rag. This is a piece of me that was never born. This is John McCain's nightmare.
See, there, there I go, trying to be popculture referential. Screw that. I'm not looking for attention. I'm just looking out for this poem. Yeah, I'm being honest now. This is a poem. And I was trying to be modest. And I failed. And I was trying to trick myself. And I failed. Bags and bags and bags of weak sauce. Dripping onto the floor and never being cleaned up.