(a poem composed from a random line from texts, each from a different person, that I received this week)
Our 7-11 is all smashed up.
From peaceful to asses.
Glad it wasn’t a work day.
Should I send vodka now or later?
I’m trying to prevent problems, but it looks like that’s not going to work.
Glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.
Fuck that, it’s all about cockfights up in this bitch.
Maybe we can get together with the girls soon?
Keep the plan the same.
Reservation at Farmstead Grill in Canton Crossing.
We are having bacon wrapped fillets, grilled asparagus, fennel salad of some sort, and cupcakes. Oh, and wine.
May I use the corset?
Cock at my house this week?
I’m a mess; broke my heart, but I’ll get over it.
NaPoWriMo Day 26