Cordless warpaths throttle

A dim intercom

Peck and transmit

The wedgie sneaking across her thong

Onion on the blade, it suggests

My guts

Jiggling out of the cold

Not yet air

But autofellatio

Still as a stretcher

Cozy like chocolate calfskin

I think meatball and baby in her

----------------

Yesterday the wind again

Might as well

Exfoliate hobbling

Hookers from the mall

Priming a place to crate

What's left for the 

Mud-flaps

Slugs

Patio diseases

Cocaine

And the minidress lather of

Primitive races whose mystic spirit

Premeditates my thrifty

Rachel Bilson-inspired pocket pool