Coffee is my lifeline.
My friends are my lovers.
Mimi is my life partner.
There are lines on my covers.

I have a funny last name.
My purse is a "Dirt Bag".
I draw extremely terribly.
I am a true female fag.

I dream fairly backwards.
My writing is the shits.
My coffee cup says "Mac's" on it.
This poem is the pits.

How do I come up with such nonsense?
Inexperience? Truth? Selfishness?
The inability to control my mind.
Also with such abrasiveness.

I think I'm going to end this now.
One last stanza, a few extra lines.
Because it's going absolutely nowhere,
people's poems are better, 
than all of mine combined.