Text Talk one

A poem written completely in predictive text

Fancied damaged boy any box or coy Cox kiss lips as they lisp.

Awake, cycle, be late and laud Kate.

Wall walk, tall talk, the next newt goes for God’s loud love by Jove.

The tie vies for kid’s lies, lids off with odd Ned picking and shaking his sibling in the lame land lane.

If he goes in, I’m gone home, good.

Gas has, ice had, water waves and rates save.

Jesus jests while pests rests.

For eons the doors shut in situ, waiting, waving their dues for ever.

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