Lousy Poem

I wrote a lousy poem today. I should have just done my laundry and taken a nap. But no, Mr. Literary Gravitas had to create something moving. The only thing that this poem moves is my lunch in my stomach. I have blasphemed the English language.
I tried turning it sideways without improvement. Flat passages, cliches, bad line breaks. I called fellow poet Ronald and read it over the phone. Sounds of regurgitation. Then he hung up. And Ron is compassionate.
Another poet friend told me to send it to the Word Scrapheap Institute in Philly so they can use it as a teaching aid.
Sighing, I collected my laundry and fed it to the washer while reading my poem aloud. A voice came from the machine.
You're NOT going to toss that mess in here with us, are you?