Rubbish Poems (Updated)

I always pick up and bag his poo, I’m responsible, you see, and then I hang it on a branch, like a poopy Christmas tree

The Big Two-Nine

Next year I’ll be thirty; I’m feeling alright, but come the day will my mental state be so sturdy?

Do Try This At Home

Running out of excuses for things they’ll always do later
Googling things that they can use instead of toilet paper

Rubbish Poems

I fail to see the irony in what I’m about say, that I don’t care about the planet as long as I’m OK

New Year, New Me

The New Year is here and suddenly ’tis the season, to change everything about oneself for no particular reason