Sunday, August 18, 2024

a boat a sink and a dodge

Without knowing, bowling like a Neptune, got git goat moat

a resuscitation question causing the box to decide it is either empty when closed, or empty when open.

A flag, not a rag, not a bag, it swallowed the hope of all made of ken.

A rip in my left elbow counted to eleven, twice. Or else.

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