118: After Talking

My disease-tease game of sorts,
I muster, as written-down thoughts,

Composed crude lines,
Re-versed at night,

Sometimes cry, truly, in delight.
Such stretched out, screen-tapped,

Half-laugh, rhymes,
Knocked off, quick-crossed,

(De)composing lines:
I can do piss-poor-poetry,

I also scan badly:
as you can see.

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