Better or Verse: "Reverse Tantra"

In the dentist's chair, nails in pleather
The taste of copper and the smell of bone
From the ceiling, you count backwards and just know
You're days from the free toothbrush, stern lecture and home

Marshmallow, skewered by fiery glare
Wondering, not yet s'mored (or forest-floored)
In this new carbon cloak, where do you stand? There's
No oblivion, nor going back to the bag

Progress reports just don't indicate
The panache with which you do calculus
In reverse, strangely pantsless, in public and late
For some other all-important final exam

It is one hell of a party trick
Lit coal peering from a soft, trembling palm
One could have a fine career: The Human Wick!
Who can't decide whether the warmth is worth the burn

You have been burdened with buoyancy
And will come to curse the gurgle, the gasp
And the swap: what's in for what's above a sea
That has scraped you across the beach so many times