Very Bad Poetry

All of my words are bullshit.
Truth is, I have no clue

how to express my feelings

when I start to think of you.



Your eyes become the sunrise,

or my heart becomes a bird.

I always feel like puking

when I hear that plopping turd.



I stay awake for hours

hoping this will be the time

I don't fuck up my meaning

or resort to childish rhyme.




My mind starts sprouting mushrooms

(which I eat, when they bruise blue),

but still no inspiration

strikes from where the fungus grew.



And yet, I think up phrases

in my useless brain of lead.

I think I really like you...
There. 


So now it's just been said.

Phlactic Anna has published 2 more terrible poems since joining on 30/11/99. Read more of Phlactic's terrible poetry at the anthology. Here are three of Phlactic's latest works: