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.