@ 2nd Mouse

TI'm taking this 5 word prompt to mess with syntax and expectations, confound sense in a more experimental poem to let wash over you

@ 2nd mouse

let's let sweat unbead itself 

a Sadie Hawkin's night 

light social str

etched 

skin the cats 

capoeira elastic a spell we'll 

dry-dock the small talk idea in favorite of 

the pansied in saladified nutrient, retire 

to pension in pillows 

droppings as ice cream storm pelts and furs and furies satan's wood 

vice red strike while I

bill it to the playboys

latecoming mice, no fairy crossing here

you pay our liens,

my! the cavity of

flowers to tooth are bitter

or better put, they say, astringent innit? the

social dry socket of jawing 

after what is pulled out of you is

no wrench, trap, no, 

to toss into

Tosh, that was the name of the young man

at the conference in 2003, the almost of his name

a prick pulled back into the sewing 

box, whisker behind that corner

of the ear nuzzles up and falls to the right

takes the cheese. - so, any news 

from your end?

- farts. 

that sucks like a vampire in heat

and beneath a meringue 

of tango skirt, ankle biters

go play in 

a traffic of words that proceed

queefed from the lower lips of Aphrodite, into 

non-anti-Heroine's Victorian lap, dance

of eyes, of course

retraction is 

getting a polident grip 

again nibble a toe 

tap that stepped out of the whey –