A long string of horseshit poems

when you're just not
inspired that much
or just writing
out of obligation
one tends to just
produce junk
worthless crap

like the poem before
and the one before that

But hell, who's perpetually
hooked into the muse
or always obsessed
with perfection
and finely tuned in

Writing these things they call poems
is just an outlet
for the flow of substandard
horseshit,
that makes up
almost all of my
inventive thinking

a really good ending
could help salvage
this pile of turd
but I'm not capable
of attempting
that right now