EXPLOSIVE UNDERWEAR

I reorder anal sex in the middle of an oil platform.

I'll status soon a cigarette's unit of time.

Cardholders rot like mountains of frozen yogurt and

The next night confirm more time

For contacts and consolatory calendars to 

Preview as full slide-out

Legs climbing the walls of an airplane on fire.

Basically, I have a nosebleed that stops my eyes

From marking their return trail.

Bed of sweet pain jumpstarts my new anal angel.

With the flag that covers our son's coffin

We preorder a favorite wine

And disappear into julienned kneejerks.

When it's showtime some soldiers are still going to call

Her a bitch no matter if she snowshoes over 

An oil platform in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico

Or wonders what it's like to rosebud then fuzz away

Toward the mountain winter right next to mine.