Is there anyone out there who can help me

Is there anyone out there who can help me write a surrealist poem?

A fish.

A quite smelly fish.

A quite displeased lad.

Why must you be such an angry young man,when your future looks quite bright to me? And how could there be such a sinister plan, that could hide such a lamb, such a caring young man

I pushed the stop button on my walk-man. Why did she put Styx on my mix-tape? Didn't she know I was into Jethro Tull? I rubbed my beard and pondered her music tastes.

I wanted to give her the benefit of a doubt, so I gave her a bye on Styx. She just picked the wrong era. Crystal Ball or Grand Illusion Styx would have been alright. Bleaching my

pubic hair would have been all wrong. "You're fooling yourself," she said. "Welcome to the Grand Illusion," I said. "Light up," she sneered. "Lady," I said, "I'd rather be a blue c

rush fan than a dope. Yeah, I’ve dreamt about waxing down my board and my cootchie, catching a big wave, about holding up a trophy without some black bush pushing out of my crotch.

Less panties, about finding a god that tells me to commit murder. A REAL one, so I have a good alibi in court. But then i realise my life is but an ugly rendition of At The Carwash