If we keep doubling the poems we write every year? 800 more in the next 6mo, 2400in2018, 4800in2019...
then we die?
Could we write more than 100 a day?
Def if we just keep publishing our privated too-embarrassing-for-fb posts or blending texts on chiaism and uncoupling with monster squad fan fiction...or Tina belcher quotes...or Sarah Silverman jokes...or our reaction to that steamy scene in the new HoC where Kevin spacey chokes that guy and then trails a hand down his shirt and starts making out with him (my writing is so sexual and eloquent...I, also, am just now convinced that I will totes be able to write that erotica I've been pretending like I have the skillset for...I'm obvi v sexual and well-equipped for the job, *middleschool makeout, cut to next scene* did you get off yet? You are welcome).
*disembodied touch*
+ Suborgasm.
Also, I am typing this while driving.
Just kidding.
Learned my lesson.
2 days of community service in 2007 will do it.
(It seemed really hard for Lindsay. Hasn't looked the same since--lilo jokes are v relevant I'll have you know.)
I'm not losing mind! This is the clearest I've been months!
*not normally a fan of exclamation points (exclamation point)
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