My New Muse

Shakespearean mush fills my head  
like regurgitated worm in a    
baby birds mouth  
   
gross you say,  
yeah, so do I  
   
or I used to  
   
before you  
   
now I'm happy  
what the fuck do I do with that?  
   
every noise makes a love song  
     screeching chalkboards  
     squealing brakes  
     whistling fools  
all screaming  
I love you, I love you, I love you  
   
and I'm here, like  
yeah, I love you too  
you know, like  
     let me count the ways  
     and let me feed you cake  
     and let's read poetic slop together  
   
so yeah.  
thanks  
I'm good and my poetry lacks  
(cause who wants to read happy crap)  
   
fuck  
   
now what do I write about?