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Open hands as bricks for plans, melting now to dreamsicle sands.

A text be a text, a signal we embbed in characters and words. Be damned if it makes thing less complicated for us

There are balloons on the bannisters, crate paper on the ceiling. The baby was born into floating colors.

Eyes: overexposed morning iris-dilation rush. Salt on my earlobes, licking wind nibs in cattail quills. Listen: blue frost tumbleweed trills, concrete black ice

Textpoem (it's a haiku): I lie in a chair On the library's top floor And watch the storm end

I'm you or someone like you. I'm your brother, mother, sister father. On just dude in a striped shirt. You pick.

Text poems: like passing notes in class, without the class

Danger was his cats name. He wanted it to live a better life than he did.

One word: squids... Wait no, two: squids can... Wait no limit on words: squids can ink the pages to make surreal poems that are better than what you write

I'm the nicest serial killer you will (n)ever meet. I let you pick the hole you die, which usually is comforting to most guys and disturbing to most girls

We sometimes look for meaning in the wrong places. A text message from a stranger usually isn't the best place to accept philosophy advice from

A battery discharges, enough time to hastily type one last momento for the night, so here it goes, I think I may lo...

Forced and confined, 160 symbols to express millions of individual thought. You do the fucking math why we can't always text

A chimera sits on mountain top. Or am I just a bit too tired staring @ a couger, snake, and goat fighting on some gravel.

As far as addictions go, being friends with girls you can't pursue romatically and startings stories that don't get written are better than most drugs.

I'm a one line type of guy, who's waiting for the perfect set up or let down. Not entirely sure yet.

Verb: text; to forever immortalize until the phone haphazardly decides to delete something. Formally, meaning just words.

Thoughtsblurtogether before p o p p i n g l i k e b u b b l e s. . .

Understanding that life sometimes gets in the way of art, we can craft texts to be a tad bit poetic, a prompt for any day of the week.