Screw driver, straight to my veins, leaving citrus taste across my tongue. Swimming in the drink of hardware, breaking up my software, I am short circuiting. Feasting on the fuzzy naval, there is nothing sexual about this experience. Some may say, this is an aquatic action, and I am merely floating down a lazy river. The stars have told me nothing, led me to believe the future is pink. This Cosmo is a liar. I am not in Mexico, but this sunrise surely has my doused in tequila. I don't play golf with porn stars, but tonight I am feeling broken down. The only tea party I will be attending is that of the long island variety. I'm having an Russian affair, with a man named Tonic, his eyes are as clear as water. I'm writing letters enclosed with gin, bloody Mary trying to pardon all of my sins. Johnnie Walker and my friend Rye are all into coke, I hope lemon drops will help them cope. My friend Margarita had sex on the beach with our good friend Mojito. They're the type to do it all; blow jobs, orgasms, and slippery nipples. They both were on liquid cocaine, but it didn't make a difference. I'm taking a mental vacation where all they speak is Pina Colada and Rum Punch.
Not looking for dates just liquidation, Bartender, may I have another - no questions.
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