Misanthropically-induced salted butter.
A superficial synonym for your concept and I’m in a bad mood.
Perpetual disorders seen but not heard over a lifetime.
It cannot possibly be connected to social justice.
I am writing this whilst frying eggs.
There’s no chance he’s thinking about it—nope.
Changing the pronoun because it cannot all be about me.
It means she didn’t start the fire but found another guy with a bloody holiday home. Git!
Reading the letters, a f f a i r, oblivious.
The correctional function on a theme of anti-climactic noise breaks.
Pushing the boat out.
Stopping.
Wait—one more one more!
Art isn’t smart but thinking makes you stupid.
Leave a comment