Everyday Yeah one-thousand three-hundred and ninety-three

I watched a cross-eyed poet write a poem today. They were very skilled. Their face looked like the guy from some of those popular sci-fi movies. Their hands were made out of David Duchovny plastic action figures. The poem was about office furniture. I was bored so I fell asleep. The cross-eyed poet bought a stool and then went to the hospital to get an operation. Their eyes fell out. I woke up. People were applauding. The poet had stacked his poems on top of a manila folder. The David Duchovny plastic action figure hands clapped for themselves. The cross-eyed poet picked up the manila folder and ran to Vietnam to eat some pho and do some international bachelor lounging. He said, “My next chapbook will be called ‘continental mercury insect bug virus’.