I Fornicate, Therefore I Am

These poems have been fornicating again- Who wrote all these? They're multiplying faster than A pile of pink rejection slips. Someone drunk on life, brazen with words; A walking miscarriage of language, Must’ve went crazy with the typewriter. You've been warned about writing too much before; You'll wake up some day and see There’s ten thousand critters, beside your name- That you can scarcely remember at all, And everyone will be laughing- even more You've been warned about this before. Who do you think you are, Prostituting all those sentences, Blatant overuse of colons and semi-colons; They ought to come out and arrest you right now, For disturbing of the culture, Resisting status quo, And conspiracy to waste trees and bandwidth. I hear the FCC has a huge file on you by now. Maybe they're just giving you enough rope.