mixology, vol. 1

3 shots of Jack
and sex on the beach
with a red-headed slut
whose sweet tasty peach
like its peppermint cousin
dripped liquid cocaine
till the comfortable screw
had gone bloody insane

an orion slave girl
a pure paralyzer
she’s got a G-spot
of Comfort inside her
and buttery nipples
with a warm apple pie
so tempting that Satan
himself would just die

but beware her green eyes
for illusions there dwell
of a paradise lost
to the cold gates of hell
where passionate virgins
raise orgasmic screams
in fires eternal
and storms of wet dreams

no wait, what is this?
tequila’s sunrise?
a zombie, I wake
and open my eyes
the nightmare, however
persists as it proves sir
some things don’t mix
with a panty remover.

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