Turn in an assignment to my teacher

Yeah. There are hardly any breaks.

adam's tusk
touch the multicolored staircase with bleeding teeth that winds to endless chasms of screaming chalkboards encapsulated in a hellish lunch of thirty on the clock then heading back to pushing coal gemeinschaft shouts and shits like Sisyphus in battered lecture halls of patriarchal synthesis to convince the world that woman doesn't rule the earth
touch to activate a fan for noise to shit or shave or masturbate because my flat-mate's ears are sensitive to toilet paper sanding that's why they beat themselves with drinks because they come from big cities and carry hall passes to excuse them from hearing me raise the sails and hunt down that ancient phallic adam's tusk that runic Moby Dick that's why I push me to the corner room to flash my cock in tolerance but perhaps one day I'll shove it and shovel it down a white driveway past picket signs and discarded child intestines once the gristle had been finely chewed and stamped with Lamh Laidir In Uachtar and get some unneeded validation of my fucking masculinity besides my own reflexive homosexuality and memories of rubbing grunting heaving pushing legs on empty doorframes in dim lighting while I contemplate the ultimate fuck I sought to achieve even when I gave my cock to tabernacle telepathy

touch the rod of sunlight sprawling on a bed-sheet stained with morning shits and fear and grief to think I'd want to fuck my own instructor to explore my mental sexuality before my time or fault for being born late thirty years or forty or the first to fuck a single cell and pushpin my philosophical problems of finding the essential a priori pounding to explain why god is not the answer to all the cattle asking questions but fuck them if I could predicate the world and find the only cause efficient enough to bring an explanation for all my thoughts on living things and then id fuck fuck fuck fuck them in the ass if I'd been raised to think a choice was there now I'm searching for an inky cock to bubble in my ACT SAT LSAT WWJD PHD Antigone atrophy and finger my own vagina then bubble in my A through D answers on a sheet of toilet paper just like my resume to one day hand in and shake and stain my skin with red tape and dockets and grading papers and keys and keys and keys to bullet closets so I can pull the hammer back and shoot my load and reload my lightning online submissions

that hang me shoot me cut me dope me crush my hopes of sitting round a fire with my cock scraping dirt drawing surrealist impressions of the male figure and wishing i could be the object of my own desire and be inside

myself a day or two or twelve and emerge with wrinkly fingers and depleted internal fluids from ripping my clitoris to come so hard and fast and fuck myself without respite then stop and rest my weary hands upon my breasts and rip my nipples to taste the atoms that make up woman so i can learn to fuse myself with she and better feel the stolen granite to have Athena gagging on my marble Parthenon and complete the sentence with an explanation point to say I've solved the fucking mystery I've solved the sex philosophy I've found out how to nut so hard the last two semen cells became my testes pulling inside out until at last my brain and head of hair and beard are deep inside the inner wall of under-skin like horizontal rain that drenches sunset numbers on a streetlight tree before it fades to dusk and only three red yellow green blazing eyes watch the empty streets for hours until it rises up eight inches I swear I measured it this morning when the lighter half of the breaking bawling howling source of binary division burned my retinas into Elam in the mirror with a yardstick that marks a few inches too long it's more like five you prick that used to slowly spurt black sin inside a rubber band and never could enjoy the true completion of a species until today's fleshy subway tunnels take you from solitude to outer space and slowly fall with hot stringy parachutes that shows you how necessity for fem fatale just puts you in your place without regretting being straight white middle class above average Joe that has to be divided by opposites and paradox and music and vaginas and sweet thoughts of fucking in Athens and dragging Zeus Apollo Odin Plato into bridal moans and attempts to last more than a minute under my reign
The end

It's honestly not bad. I don't think it's amazing or even great but I didn't cringe reading it like I do with every millennial girls' poetry I read

This is the definition of ascended memecore.

B minus

why would you ever buy a class for fucking poems

>run on sentance
Fuc yu

>in battered lecture halls of patriarchal synthesis to convince the world that woman doesn't rule the earth
>to shit or shave or masturbate because my flat-mate's ears are sensitive to toilet paper sanding
>get some unneeded validation of my fucking masculinity besides my own reflexive homosexuality
>grief to think I'd want to fuck my own instructor to explore my mental sexuality
>pushpin my philosophical problems of finding the essential a priori pounding
>depleted internal fluids from ripping my clitoris to come so hard and fast and fuck myself without respite
>sweet thoughts of fucking in Athens and dragging Zeus Apollo Odin Plato into bridal moans and attempts to last more than a minute under my reign

OP is playing an elaborated joke on us

>to nut so hard
A+

>pastebin.com/6HSydZGq
As a pastebin, it's amazing.
As a poem, it's garbage.

Not the worst. A-

Also just give every peer review and A and bullshit some reasons. It makes the other person inclined to do the same for you.

So let me get this straight, you're the ahole in the class who posts my poem on an anonymous imageboard to spit all over it because some other college ahole submitted it to your teacher as though h/she had written it?