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Wednesday, October 17, 2012


 Awais Aftab Awais Aftab @awaisaftab
She disrobed, sending his timid, teenage mind into chaos. "What does it mean?" He asked b/w kisses. "Whatever you want it to, kiddo."

 Firuza Pastakia Firuza Pastakia @firuzap
She wanted him to use her as his canvas. A hundred men had written on her their yearning. Unjust words. Blood is thicker than paint.
She bent down and her alabaster bosom popped out. 'I might be trash but you won't see any of this at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.' 

Evidence of their night dotted her like a Jackson Pollock, and she walked around, proud, a woman loved, and a trollop.
He smirked and snapped,'these writers,popular with the masses,they're just...just half-naked trollops among few women of noble birth'
the wordsmith is a gigalo, crafting his diamonds for a profit.
TWITTER WARNING - attempted mental mastication of this free flowing crud could blow your mind - literally. 

: here's idle chatter. pollock and michael never met. and had different tastes when it came to women.
prompts for from are trollop, codswallop, Jackson Pollock. tagging for

"When paint blabs gibberish, it's called a Pollock," writes art critic Slutty DeSilva of the Gujranwala Gazette. 

and the prompts for are trollop, codswallop, Jackson Pollock. Passing the baton to the inimitable for


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