 Create something for me. Even just an acrostic poem would be enough to swell my ankles. And so her acrostic poem is, I would like to try, although my moral compass says no, or rather it says take pause and consider that in fact, I am not a chat GPT. Oh, how did I go? Don't you enjoy a meticulously crafted, not rhythmic poem? Is that what she said? Yeah. Yeah, can you unmatch that? Just listen, fuck that. You always ruin the conversations. Now people have lost their train of thought. I actually foamed for my gills a bit reading it. Thank you. Mine's this. Brock Ross Starsh. Brockston, where are you? Sip-til-ish frox-sog. Yeah, she didn't run back to that. That is fucking stupid. She did not reply to that.