OH NO THE INSECTS ARE HUGE IN THIS LOCALITY

Fuck it. I said I wasn't. But now I am. And this is a prompt poem for one of my workshops that I had fun with:

MILK CRATE

Bore down on the chest, rattling star oaring a confession into ore-oiled face masks.

CURTAIN

You are a door.

CUM STAIN

Pre-processed or otherwise incessant collection withering in the alter-air.

40 OUNCE COLT 45

Dayton recalls whatever drug dug into its artery while airy and defeated.

SMALL DOG

Purposing purporting procuring pleonastic procedures pressing poor plums pleasurably not long ago.

SPARK PLUG WIRES

Considered or cornered/coroner crowing the developed world is a lack

THUMB TAC

Literally fucking useless forgoing whatever fucked up procedural analysis homologous to pissing blood in a 

Utah gas station bathroom.

BARE BRANCH

You: This lighting is terrible

Me: Shut up
You: No, seriously. Fuck this lighting
Me: The room is a passive entity enshrined with human experience

You: Maybe I should go

TINGLER RING

Bored circumstance boar into the vaginal canal channeling cumin scented gharials.

HALF EMPTY BOTTLE OF WINE

Daunting donor/Pressed garlic in an eye socket/Shimming breast plate/Pornography in school