Thirty seconds to write something. Doesn't matter if it makes sense, make it short

Thirty seconds to write something. Doesn't matter if it makes sense, make it short.
GO!

Victims and torturers mixed together in a bloodbath, an arena that reeks of death and despair that was built for the sole purpouse of existing.
They brought that pain on themselves.
And they know it.
But they won't listen to the voice at the back of their head that beckons for awareness.

ur a faget

Sometimes I really love this stupid fucking board

and dubs to boot.
>fpbp

yes
and proudly

Capt. Zalil Simi conserned about his airframe, would not barrel roll out of the way.

It's how they are indoctrinated.
The ayatollah would single you out.
Allah would single you out.
Let him crash. You aren't a western imperialist kuffar are you?
Let his fuselage explode.
Why do you care, your duty is to land your sortie without any damage to your airframe and nothing else.

>Indian Navy Lt. Commander
stay on

>conserned
you have to go back [to ]

Her eyes met mine, I felt my member throb within its cotton cage; and at this moment I recalled Nael, and I came to understand that I was, in a way, my own locked tiger. Looking into her eyes, I disrobed and yes, YES, I came.

A journey to sea with a storm that shakes the very foundation of my being.

Who is this seaman daemon?

Oh my ,how dare I misspell such a trivial word.
It's like copy editing is the writer's job too.

Thanks for remembering me mate.
I rarely post there now though.

Striking, striking, over and over. Each successive blow brings a wetter and more muffled sound until it is simply striking at the ground beneath the pool of mush.

I love you. You're everything for me. I want to spend my life with you. It doesn't matter how or where, as long as it is with you. Please tell me you feel the same way.

Go to bed Mr. Sparks

>I rarely post there now though.
maybe you should concentrate on your day job.
The War with porkies and the chinks is coming, and sooner than you'd expect.
The world can't afford the chinks winning.

It was a dark and stormy night. Plump, stately Buck Mulligan rolled out of his porch and came screaming across the sky, past Eve and Adam's from swerve of shore to bend of bay

Onanist
Phallophile

Impaler
Sadist

Asshole

Flamer
Aberrosexual
Grotesque
Gaylord
Oversexed
Tramp

Spanish architecture the jacarandas and crystals in the park. The old places and situations come back as i repeatedly place myself in them. Beefheart plays from a nearby art show, that I left. I couldn't handle the crowds. So i sit here and write.

blanket babies blooping in the black burgeoning bobby bath dipped ice cream cone chocolate dairy queen podunk slithering black snakes snakes snakes hsssssssssssssss sic semper tyrannis

I did it but it came out really mad

Reading the thread description was the hardest thing I'd done all day, even the tranny porn was better. How do you write anything in 30 seconds? Am I just going to vomit angrily onto the computer?

Need to mow the lawn, well, I only got a weed wacker, so I need to wack the lawn. Got to remember to put some water in the fridge.

Sounds of a primary school nearby both wake me up and drive me deeper into the sheets. "Ouch" cries one kid, "ouch" I reply softly

Nobody ever told me that beer and curry combined to create the most acidic shits imaginable. This agony I feel, as I expel what can only be described as liquid buck-shot, is my reward for ignorance.

I-I do, user-kun! I'll love you forever and ever!

I wish I had a houseboat.
I like it.

whatever
you got five minutes

Words, soft and hard. Sweet nothings written in the mist above her mouth. I woke up from that dream long ago but still see it in my nightmares.

After "A Little Life", there is no way you can use the same worldplay in your title without looking derivative. Had to change "Little Good in the Hearts of Loners" to "Nothing Good in the Hearts of Loners" - but now the ambiguity has little do to with novel's content. At least I am finally sure that my publisher is mentally deficient: I mean I've suspected it for quite some time, but his suggestion of "Few Things of Good Nature in the Hearts of Loners" wipes away all doubt.

Swirling equations refused to take place
As a tired mind lagged in its chase
Of knowledge that dove deeper into obscurity
He had failed this exam, of that no one was as sure as he

There are moments during your boyhood that breed a vague disgust that never quite leaves you, such as confronting your mortality for the first time, realising your father is capable of perfect stupidity, or hearing an American pronounce the word "buoy".

reverse search it faggot

Some people will sell their soul for (You)'s.

I'll sell my soul for you, user. :-*

Then the penultimate typist positioned himself in front of the typewriter without realising that it obscured his ultimate utility of the item. Looking forward: transient cadavers of prior entrepeneurs stretched out before him

>American pronounce the word "buoy".
uhggod

I FUCKED YOUR MOM/

I was walking in the park the other day when a big bad man with a mullet took out a machete and said Haryana hard a hard a

my family is just two parents screaming at a deadbeat leech for playing boondocks and the hamilton soundtrack too loud while I watch in horror

it may be only 1 am but
actually goodnight

I had a chance to get with a girl like this and I FUCKING BLEW IT

soemtimes when you poop
an air lion of enormous
meaty sacrilege for
the swamp robot home that
you spread on the naan

Creampie the masses, mouthpussy of the deceitful. Ravage the boypussies of the ignorant.