Starters for the Tongue-Tied Planeteers (2)

Hi there planeteers, linkers and cupids. Gaia broadcasting again. Here are a few more lines to hook up a fresh fish from the big online ponds. Keep wishing, fate will soon relent!

But these are fine lines, you see. With just a few dustings and tweakings they could be more than the lame limps that they are. Promise.

1.      Manhattan is as old as a song. Picture this:  Katz’s. You sitting, comfy as the couch. Blissful with the pastrami on white bread. Ignoring the moans from the famous table. Or fail. Your vegan buds hasn’t been defiled with meat. Your pearly whites, then, now sing of my murder.

2.      Ok, Spock, I won’t hand you your unexpected good lighting. Nah, you won’t get a threesome too but I promise you layered lasagnas and shadows as funky as that armpit of Manila---Quiapo. Simple. Wonderful. Reckless.

3.      Here’s another adventure, how about a thrust as deep as Ken Ryker’s and soon you will be asking “Zac Ephron who?”

4.      I forgive you for that horrible prose. I know, I know….your bad sense of judgment. From now on, boy, there will be no more of those flaccid attempts. I’ll make good, hard and deep memories with you, instead. Picture this: me, deep inside you, you, hanging by the length of my flesh, dancing to the delight of our sweet horny music. You ask me again, not a bit embarrassed, “who am I?”

5.      Yes, coke and coffee are our preferred lubes. We both like em cold, too. Licks. So let's pretend we are as comfy as the couch in Starbucks. It's raining again, so we're seeking shelter inside this expensive vice. I'll probably be sipping my frap Mocha, thank you. You? I imagine, dark chocolate mocha. Since we both love lengthy conversations, why don't we engage in one and kill time. Baha pa sa labas. And probably the entire metropolis. I pick your mind and happily you offer..... Friends?

7.      Tonight I tweet the nubbies and they can get rock hard. Damn. I need a shot of Valrhona.

8.    I see you leaning on the wall, burning your stick. The smoke swirls like a hopeful incense.  The wall is already green, ripe with its envy. It envies the flux that it cannot possess or even comprehend. So it must remain.  Unmoved. 

jenniferlyonbooks