Ode to being lazy and not doing anything anymore

A treacherous voice in my head told me:
“Hey, why don’t you just be lazy and not creative?”
In response, I said: “No,
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you”
As fumbles are more humiliating than outright misses,
this poem is dedicated to that voice.

Oh, adieu!
Is there anyone clownlier than thee?
Less aware than a rock in the road,
and with faux-Shakespearean tongue
more pretentious and broken than I?
Good luck, not that it does you good,
for your ideas were as insignficiant
as a spec of dust–nay, worse!
At least dust can contribute to a sneeze.
You are not even worth a sneeze.