A Series of Foul Decadence

So here's my take on poetry. If you've bothered to read the rest of the shit I come out with, you would probably follow my train of thoughts and the trend I'm in right now. This is just a series of foul decadence that I'm still trying to piece together into one sole poem. But the "in-betweens" aren't falling together like i wanted them to be. Anyway, enjoy these before I get sick of them and decided to abandon this task altogether.

She's my shag bag, a lousy hag
A problemetic whore
She's riddled with disease
Her vagina's got sores
I can flip her, reverse her
She never really minds
As long as I pay
I don't have to be kind

I'm an easy fuck, a sitting duck
But I cannot tell a lie
It earns my rent and I pay on time
I paint my face to cover up my shame
But the men can't tell
Cus they're all the same

I'm a married man, unhappy man
My wife doesn't satisfy
She lies still like a log
And she farts like a hog
The only way to shut her is to fill her mouth with cum
The other way to kill her is shoot in her bum