A poem

So I’m taking this poem directly from texts that Jezy and I have sent back and forth to each other the past week. When we’re both stressed the texts get weird. I want to say that we do this often and never actually set out to write this poem. This is just something we do. I put these texts in poem form.

Do you think that there is a chance that there, behind the T-can under the canopy there is a sort of wild animal?
I have seen no evidence of it
Every day in every way I am wilder like the beast my hands are beginning to paw
It hurts
My paw pads are beginning to crack and bleed
The paw paw tree grows in the yard
In love with the paw paw I am
He loves another
Your wings are beginning to nub
Masturbate yourself
Eat the little baby doll
The baby doll does not feed the beast within
Meat will only feed the Maw Maw
The preacher told the men to pray to the Maw Maw
They were smote amongst the women
The Maw Maw lives in our hearts and in our minds
I will forever pray to the Maw Maw tree
They will make you drink the devil’s pee
The devil drinks from the delicious puppy milk flower
we are made from the milk
we live in the goodness of the milk
my stumps are hurting
the pulp sacks may burst

That is all of the poem. The next two texts are literally “how’s the week going” and “Okay I guess”

We are strange

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