The Wine Is Blizz for Us to Pizz

(Que a dank warehouse space, drywall partitioned-room, sweaty couple propped on mattress sitting on dusty subfloor)
“Wake with a head flush with wine
Waste deep in yr musk
Thrush in the throat is the pith of our idyll”
“Ten thousand kisses for dearest
If I speak doggerel forgive my boldness
My heart is a vessel of love
Our tryst is the substance it brims of”
“Shall we watch Darko in bed?
Or something more saccharine, like ‘Razing the Bar?’
Do we come here to find answers
Or just to forget the questions?”
“No need to call for a cab!
Pedals and spokes are all I care to know
Curses for smog they’ll exhaust
Ironic their bucks fund the terrorists!” (yuck yuck yar)
(Pan away to dude funkilly monkeying in front of mirror)
We got to take our hats off to cracker poseurs
At the meat market preying for closure
Peter Pan thinking coke is ambrosia
You’re choking in your tights
Though your stature be slight
And with a lick of the tongue
Your tongue got so long, kid
Your tongue in her lung
Soon you’ll be licking her blisters
And lapping up the dust in her thighs
They’re rusted shut
What with that gawk in your walk, kid
Your slobbering jaw talk
A blip and a blop
The flabberassed and assless
They all come down
To the poseur cracker house
Get up get out of bed