Here is some pointless verse for you to munch on. If you must steal the words, have the decency to quote at the very least. This one is called "crash and burn, to the finish".
hay fever rising in real slow burn
sometimes, even flowers tend to rust
those garden colours all slowly turn
sometimes to ash, sometimes to dust
cutting ribbons and cutting ties
one fabric, the other more fabricated
occasions marking truths and lies
in an existence now emasculated
when a man is truly, really hungry
he would gladly eat a sandwich of mould
it will probably make him less angry
than if offered a biscuit of gold
if a bird doesn't see she is pretty
how will she still keep her chin up?
when everything looks so fucking shitty
shittier even than two girls, one cup
out on a limb, in for a ride
the race car driver shows no fear
even as he shits bricks inside
while trying to simultaneously steer
painful pangs of prurient choice
while emotions toiled in the backseat
disdain, blame, fury in a soft voice
tears well up, dry in the ensuing heat
skid marks screech on the track
rash accusations of treatment like trash
now heading in to a cul-de-sac
slam the brakes or go up in a crash
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