I've Nothing To Write About

Oh dear,  Oh dear!   I've nothing to write about!
           Neither do the hills, flowers or skies spark inspiration;
Nor do the breeze, horizon or herbs that sprout!
     Not even bosoms and vulvae, oh! this is DUMB!
        When  I   try  to  sound  a  bit  Plathesque
    I get depressed by my own miserable lack of imagination;
 And when I try to sound a bit Dickinsonesque
             Even  I  am  like  "WHAT  THE  TRUMP!"
Wait, then what the duck* am I...?
Nay, Leave it.