nietzlawe
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33, Male
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Globe of Earlobe
Joined:
7/10/08
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I am here to make a difference, isn't that why we're all here?

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Raymond Will Be Spinning

2017-03-19 14:22:26 by nietzlawe

RAYMOND WILL BE SPINNING

Life is all about what you make it. I just make it up as I go along, following the string down the road to the van where the man is stood waiting with the chloroform rag next to Chloe and several others all in formation. I'm out of my wits, scared witless with no witnesses present other than the Jehovahs who resent me for slamming my size 12 door in they motherfookin' spooky ass faces. My only weapon of self-defence is to tell them to back off or be ready to get smacked down. I didn't mean to get snagged in this web of Charlotte's, with a bag placed over my head so I could hyperventilate for my own amusement while I'm abused. One of those brown paper bags that McDonalds comes in. It even smells of fries, this is not right? This is traumatic! It traus parallels to other similar cases. Brief and Suit. Can't even breathe in here, can you believe it? No air! Not even any hair on my head. I'm not even a future heir to the throne! This is just a game they play... crazy and twisted mysteries that date back centuries send me doolally by pissing me off and forcing me to suck on a piss pop lolly. Either that or lick the quim of Molly Qerim at her own whim and leisure. Win Win I say, clit is lit as I flick back and forth rocking, with my cock out, drooling, knocking one out. Better to write but sometimes its like writhing in pain when the right words just wont spring to... tits! And now we're approaching spring, so things are gonna improve, I'm proof... You're proof. We're all foolhardy, we're all fools for watching Tom Hardy films. I'd rather watch eye floaters or documentaries about bodies lying bloated on top of water. I'm lying... about being afraid of dying. I'm afraid of lying about being afraid of dying. Inside I'm crying, or maybe that's just the internal bleeding talking. Where Did The Road Go? I need a showboat if I'm to cross this river alive. Survive? I have never given a fuck or a second thought if the boat I'm in runs over 7 ducks or slams into some passing stray goats. Even though my life is sucky I still feel lucky in some ways, as I cross this moat and end up entrapped in this ch√Ęteau, wrapped up in clingfilm and dumped in a freezer. Alive. Jesus Christ! This is like the 9th circle of hell! Is there a hotline I can call for help? People wont pick up, they think its a cold call. But never mind, Nietz is just warming up! This is just a precursor Gladys and Lentilmen! And I'm glad that I was slapped on the head and woken up by Angela Hawken. Ethan Mengele. Bonjela on my liposuction, as seductive as duct tape, flesh peddling and spirit cooking... Hell's kitsch show presented by Goatdon Fuckin' Ramsay. This aint a show for kids. Gordon's fuckin' Gin, juice and tonic is cause for a topic! Gorgon fuckin' Gianfranco looking like Steve Tyler... Neo Maximus trying to run down a taxi cab and ends up in a car accident. At least you think its a Taxi. Imagine a world where everyone over 18 couldn't do naughty things, but everyone under 18 could. "You can't buy alcohol, Sir." -- "Why not?" -- "You're not under 18." The disclaimers for grizzly horror films: NOT SUITABLE FOR OVER 18s. Instead of 'you must be this tall to go on this ride' at Theme Parks. 'You must be a small fucker if you want to go on this ride.' The world is an illusion and whatever we make it. You chose to chase that piece of string. You chose to drink in that seedy bar. You chose to be a Ewe. A Eweman Being. Born to Conform, starring in softcore porn as often as your schedule allows. You'll be sucking Halal meat till the day you die. Ha! LOL! My head is spinning, gut and back ache, and I don't even stack crates for a living. Not even at the age of retirement. Maybe its the lack of vegetables that is turning me into a.. vegetable. The veg tables must be turned in our favour, The creators of food must cater to our needs instead of being bitches and haters!!! You're seeing things that aren't there, like Arndale centres in your own town. Usually we have nothing but harsh stale winters. Acrid rain actually causes more pain than acid rain. More pain than an Amber Rayne overdose. The amber lights were signalling strong, yet noone heard a thing, except a herd of sheep but they were keeping schtum. Their bleats were bleeped out. Censored from sharing the truth... thus sparing the blushes of liars, like Friar, who had his genitals tucked between his legs and Robin's Hood firmly stuffed up his bonnet.

Now where were we? That's right, being anything other than wary as I continue to spin these fairy tales, affirmative as the firm-titted girl from Wales. Should we sugarcoat or coat the lady's coat in sugar? Her name just happens to be Sugar. Too much sugar in my system, not enough Aloe Vera, too much alopecia. As hazy as a lazy eye syndrome. We've been beating that damn LinnDrum harder than Lynn's bum knee. Its time to make swift changes, and allay public fears by a'lying'througha'my'teeth'Luigi! But Luigi can't lie, not while he's setting up ouija boards in abandoned shacks and being hacked by abandoned wives... with machetes and knives!! but Luouija is Bored of being exploited, and we know that everything is tiresome these days, maybe we should hire some motivators to motivate us and have our Motifs as 'Don't put off today what you can do tomorrow,' wait... You look like you have just ripped off Andrew Divoff's eyepatch... Not literally. The crowds don't wanna see that old gaudy TT. The crowds?! Don't you mean the stray dog walker? Who just happened to share my surname? Call that a coinkidenk? That's harder to swallow than the Reader's Digest. That's harder to swallow than Lady Di ingesting cock off Dodi's coke. Its even harder to swallow than a Hardcore Porn Hardcore Pawn episode. Les and the Lezzas... TV Gold. Literally TV gold if the lezzas turned out to be trannies. LGBT (Les Gold Blows Trannies). Oh No He Dinn! He must be censored! Censored because he offended a German transgender by the name of Hans Bender? Where will this political correctness end? This tidal wave of idle banter. Slander or intellectual cancer? Is it so hard to understand the difference between fact and fiction? What's actually happening in real life, and what's happening in a motion picture? Maybe I'm an emotionless prick that should be subject to Chinese boa constrictors. Regulations and restrictions, like being put in chastity by Jessica Farrar for trying to touch her breasts with my arm. I'm armed and dangerous like an army of strangers all paid to snatch you off the street and take you to a monastery basement. And not because you couldn't make your monetary payments. Honestly this whole operation stinks like tuna fish during a lunar eclipse where lunatics thrive, and ordinary humans literally fight for survival or reside in hideouts to see the night out. Gamma Gamma Coming... no need to dampen the mood by peeing on your chips and gammon or having a wank on the food. Have you the stamina to keep going? Running around like Salman Rushdie in hiding from a heightened fatwa. Fighting like a frightened fat kid. Should he be bullied by keeping silent? Or stand up fully to these tyrants? Try ranting, its what you do best, no matter how many dudes wanna shoot through your bulletproof vest. Too full of truth serums, red herrings, morbid settings... this isn't the moment for ethics. Just effin' epic, open and energetic, not closed off like this septic tank. Open top firing blanks at JFK in a charabanc. Practical stunt that was practically a cunt's trick. Like Professeur Liber overseeing those that lie below, openly peeing in the piping, letting it filter through a BRITA and it comes out dripping on your burrito and buffalo wings. That was a dirty tactic, surely below the belt, and heaven knows the smell must have been hellish... like this sciatica having me acting erratically, like a spastic starring in erotic porn, hypnotic fornication, torn between two lovers, and those lovers are crocodiles. Better than the two komodo dragons that knocked on my door trying to convert me into their antiquated religion. I could smell the antagonism from the offset, lecturing me like some Ofsted type shit. Be gone biyatches, I only believe in logic and the laws of the universe. Don't make me get out my tawse or chase you up the garden path with my hose pipe. Trying to butter me up with nature leaflets. Pfft, "I have the fucking Origin of Species upstairs," I said to these two moronic mormons. The whole thing was comical, a Comic Con, someone should have left a mic on.


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Ten Years From Now Experimental Song
Make Our Way Hip Hop - Modern Song
Walker Mitty Ambient Song

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