Here's one I wrote back in April of 2006 during my freshman year of college. I know the wine references are a bit excessive. Write drunk, edit sober (except I always get too lazy for that second part).
It's 85 Degrees Outside. That's Too Hot.
I'll wear my pajamas all day if I want
and I'll walk barefoot to class
and then Put on my shoes when I get there.
A poor choice with glass in the streets, but
sometimes a plan is better in my head.
I'll have a glass of Zin if I want to,
or two, And then I'll slur like Fyodor
if I please. Because sometimes it's nice
to give my mind a break
and To sing loudly with foreign accents.
So long as it's only sometimes.
A friend asked if I plot out scenerios With friends and strangers
Stories that haven't happened yet.
She has a bookworm's mind, and anyhow she's
determined She'd fund my abortion
with her parents money.
I think she's a good friend.
She thinks I hate her.
My little boy's teasing attempts at flirting
hit her sensitive spot And not the one
I mean to hit.
I should squeeze out of that small
slit of a space My window won't open all the way,
but If I folded a few ribs I could fit through the slit
I could climb on the rooftop and Hang out
with the construction workers Crumpling their cans
stepping on cigarettes that litter my dormroom penthouse view
of the smutty streets below.
What could it hurt? They have already seen me naked.