Prove you are a good writer

Describe these eyes.

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en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanpaku
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Like pools of water.

No.

So, then, wherever wasteful expenditure and the show of abstention from effort is normally, or on an average, carried to the extent of showing obvious discomfort or voluntarily induced physical disability. There the immediate inference is that the individual in question does not perform this wasteful expenditure and undergo this disability for her own personal gain in pecuniary repute, but in behalf of some one else to whom she stands in a relation of economic dependence; a relation which in the last analysis must, in economic theory, reduce itself to a relation of servitude.

To apply this generalization to women's dress, and put the matter in concrete terms: the high heel, the skirt, the impracticable bonnet, the corset, and the general disregard of the wearer's comfort which is an obvious feature of all civilized women's apparel, are so many items of evidence to the effect that in the modern civilized scheme of life the woman is still, in theory, the economic dependent of the man—that, perhaps in a highly idealized sense, she still is the man's chattel. The homely reason for all this conspicuous leisure and attire on the part of women lies in the fact that they are servants to whom, in the differentiation of economic functions, has been delegated the office of putting in evidence their master's ability to pay. There is a marked similarity in these respects between the apparel of women and that of domestic servants, especially liveried servants. In both there is a very elaborate show of unnecessary expensiveness, and in both cases there is also a notable disregard of the physical comfort of the wearer. But the attire of the lady goes farther in its elaborate insistence on the idleness, if not on the physical infirmity of the wearer, than does that of the domestic. And this is as it should be; for in theory, according to the ideal scheme of the pecuniary culture, the lady of the house is the chief menial of the household.

the ocean

Within the purple eyeshadow and black eyeliner reminiscent of nebulas lie two deep islands of blue encircled by oceans of white foam. At the heart of these islands is a black abyss, a window to the elfine soul within.

Not real.

cum glazed sky holes

Blue eyes.

slutty ice-blue saucers ringed with caked on make up and spider leg lashes that seem to be simultaneously dead and alive-the eyes of a blood sucker, set below brunette plucked eyebrows, vain in their gaze
i want to gouge them out

Clear, blue eyes sticking out of a swamp of makeup

i am trying my best to hide the fact that i am a gremlin under makeup and filters.

Her eyes were blue, like glue. But not white glue. I'm talking about the blue glue you had in elementary school that made all the other kids jealous. And also she had well kempt eye eyebrows like the women on the cover of vogue

t. John G.

Perfect blowjob eyes

Blue

>she had eyes like a THOTT

>purple prose is bad
Heh

this is a good exercise im not sharing anything with you people tho

Eyes of a washed out decrepit whore.

Her eyes were like two organs in some sort of meat-sphere

Blue like the sky

get over yourself
do you honestly think a writer's job is to make beautiful things disgusting? you need your own eyes checked niiiggguh

a woman's blue eyes = ocean, water is just one of the most trite clichés

when the sociopathy abates I will open my heart to you user

lit af, amarite millennials? :D

Two balls of blue lightning, emanating a sort of unquestioning, thoughtless demand.

>cliches are bad

Thousand cock stare

Puddle eyes.

i liked it

>don't use cliches
>uses oceans, lakes, the sky describing blue eyes as an example
>no one is able to give a serious reply that describes them well

In this specific context they are, yes

tarted up and over tired
underwhelming, overwhelmed

青いで、丸いで、怠い目。

balloons filled with condensed milk and blueberries, surrounded by barbed wire and buried beneath the pale sands.

Two cunts, jizz filled. Two jizz filled cunt and half shaved pubic hair. The cunts have seen so much rubbing, they're read as red can be.

ok man. I wish you the best. Get well soon...

--with Love,
user

Chortle/10

#a7c5dd

Concentric circles of paint, dendrites, flesh, white, sky and abyss. Progressive levels demarcating a gravesite. Hallowed ground on which once stood something beautiful, and hence, which merits the surplus of cut flowers and gilded idols.

nice

Pallid beets, chemically burned and darkened.

She looked at her friend with the look you find in one of those Vanity fair magazines. One of those that makes you salivate while waiting at the doctors office; while at the same time gives you disgust that comes from realizing how easy a woman can get anything she wants in life while looking like disney like doll ready to be used for sex. A look that clearly shows how easy is to manipulate a man into doing whatever the fuck she wanted, and how much i wanted to satisfy her. In her eyes, you could see a slight purplish glaze that tries to hide the fact that she spent 20 minutes in front of the mirror only to end the night with her face glazed with baby making juice. At that moment, I lowered my guard for twenty three milliseconds and Liza noticed the movement your mouth does when you unconsciously salivate. She knew I was fucked.

bobby purpleman

you think this is writing? What writing is susposed to be?

The object of my cum deposit

She had these stupid as fuck eyes that peered out from under shutters made up greasy-black like the flesh was spoiled and ready to rot off. She, of course, thought they were "dramatic" and "mysterious." beautiful after an exotic fashion. But just like all the other facades she kept up against the world, the desperation with which she sought to manipulated the symbols of depth and beauty betrayed her in the clumsiness of their assemblage to be the crushingly ordinary and entirely gouache child of a woman she did everything possible to deny being.

It was easy to see her withering from this front with only the slightest of age. Turning twenty two or twenty three and feeling the undeniable cinch of her place, falting with ease into the habit of class and means natural to her. A turn to be sensed by her as a maturing away from her childishness and into a practical womanhood, never realizing the perpetual child's habit of fright she was again operating by, taking up another cover and another facade, exhibiting the properties of without being of, forever trying to dress up as what she thought it was she needed to be.

You could see that decay creeping out from her wide eyes, that stagnation into which she was drowning unknowingly. It was her nature to rot; it was her nature to drown; she was a deterioration of a deterioration, a part of a thing having long forgot what it was or what it meant to be, just the artifice of an artifice waiting to be abraded.

Two aching cunts wide open, birthing cosmic babies, sunny side up fetuses with the black hole of infinity at their centers. Yes the universe began like this, and ended like this, as it will continue to do. I fuck her mainpussy while these ones are occupied, and she is vacant, staring, uncaring, and I break my pair of eggs.

She has liberally applied eyeliner, drawing attention to those popping vibrant, blue irises. So blue they are almost clear, as of taken out of the eyesockets of a beautiful albino. Encasing those crystalline sapphire discs are milky ponds. Pristine and scintillating, like the ceramic dishes my grandmother brings out every christmas dinner. Yes the whites of her eyes are so perfect and unblemished that they barely draw ones attention.

Eyes turn me on, and her overstated makeup reminds me of that of a whore that I fucked last week. Staring at the whites of these creamy eyes, I can't help but imagining shooting my load onto her face. My juice would look like the white film of her eyes was melting. Sticky white eyeball sliding down her face.

"Walmart eyes.jpg"

Blue they are, blue it is, blue they will be, but, alas, blue they will not be once dead, because black the true color of everything.

english is not my first language.

Hot big tit brunette blue eyes fucks sensually MUST WATCH

She suffers from Sanpaku

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanpaku

Katy Perry's lifeless eyeballs

i-is that not normal

No, it means your spirit is out of line with the universe according to Chinese mystics and its linked to psychosis.

>suffers
One thing you'll notice about girls when you start interacting with them is that they're bug-eyed. It only seems weird to you because men usually have droopier or less flared eyes in general. We could chalk it up to girls having smaller heads whereas your eye generally keeps a similar dimension from birth, or via selection in that girls with bigger (looking) eyes seemed prettier and were thus chosen for mating, but don't say "suffer". That shit is cute. In fact when I look at a girl with "man eyes" I am quite disappointed because they are less vibrant and lack (associated) cuteness.

interesting, had no idea that was a thing with a name

Her eyes were your typical almond shape, and as she glanced slightly sideways and looked in my direction I could tell that despite her smile her eyes expressed no emotion. Her eyes, eyelashes, eyebrows, and makeup said everything. Her irises were light blue, the color of powerfully lightened darkness. Her eyebrows were supremely fine, barely there, and the makeup only showed their crafted ideality and lack of reality. Behind the dazzling brightness in the foreground—the color and makeup—one could tell deep below the external layer of light there was a dark void of body and spirit. Her beauty, her aliveness, was only an appearance, and one knew that without all the external show she would be less than nothing, for while she looked average without them there was within that body no personality.

Fucking creepy. Reminds me of huskies.

Her blue gaze encapsulated me with cold desire.

faggot

HUGE faggot

She doesn't look that pretty and her eyes are emotionless to be honest.

The sea of spuming thought foists up again
The radiant bubble that she was. And then
A deep up-pouring from some saltier well
Within me, bursts its watery syllable.

Eh, I take that back, she looks pretty just from the eyes and that bit of the nose and face shape alone. Eyes seem sort of questioning.

All gay

If men at forty will be painting lakes
The ephemeral blues must merge for them in one,
The basic slate, the universal hue.
There is a substance in us that prevails.
But in our amours amorists discern
Such fluctuations that their scrivening
Is breathless to attend each quirky turn.
When amorists grow bald, then amours shrink
Into the compass and curriculum
Of introspective exiles, lecturing.
It is a theme for Hyacinth alone.

like crystal, like azure, the shallow blue of her's against mine, mirrored a thousand leagues across, through mine.

Spunk catchers
Seed seizers
Spunk trunks
Custard lustereds
Wad lightning rods
Spank planks
Prime slime dimes

Blue eyes and crimson outlines, they look like a straightforward sky.

She had blue eyes

icy blue eyes

Cornflower orbs with sulcate webs of azure; but tragedy revealed in her sanpaku eyes.

Black and blue, with the golden light
I Gaze upon you with the ever pools of might
Black like the stars in he nights sky sleeps in you eye.
Bright like the twinkling sun in the upper blue.
White like the empty canvas that our future may create.

Slightly overdone eye makeup layered behind a thin, delicate array of black eyelash, continually fluttering with every word uttered, every pointed look. Groomed eyebrows arching in a facade of congeniality. An iris that captures that quality of white, rapid water pooling into an embankment. Pupils shrouding a veil of then and now - water falling in forever, and ever, and ever, plummeting into an abscess of soul. She had a look about her that drew men in, and, as quickly, drove men out.

you’re garbage

Well, I tried. Any particular reason it's bad?

Her eyes are blue

This desu, no good author actually goes lengths to describe something as faggy as eyes. Just write the color of the eye and be done with it. Describing something what doesnt need description is a giveaway that youre a pseudo that writes on the level of a highschool kid

are cryin
these eyes have seen a lot of loves
but they're never gonna see another one like I had with you

kek

The eyes themselves were nothing special, a bit of Tyndall effect surrounding the speck of black, but like any woman socialized in a modern, "liberal" society she did them up every day to distract from their plainness. Gobs of mascara, palettes of eyeshadow and regular appointments for the lasering of stray eyebrow hairs. Though she will never keep track, if she did she would find that by the end of her life she will have spent more time, cash and energy trying to draw attention to her plain eyes than she had on higher education.

If only someone had told her, "You know, it's okay if your eyes just look normal."

Heart warming, spirit erecting puddings of sensual joy

Dead heroine blue

oh my god dude go masturbate and go to bed

It just looks like blue eyes. that's when i realize, i'm looking into the soul. and in that soul, i see nothing. behind that beautifully deceiving azure crystals, there is nothing. no empathy, no care, nothing worth caring about. she looks beautiful, but her soul is as horrid as a decomposing corpse.

Piercing.

emeralds from the shallowest well, the one that spells sorrow for its owner

azure adorned alabaster all-seeing all-judging antagonizing advancing annihilating AGONIZING AGGRANDIZING PITYING PATRONIZING SEETHING SHIVERING SQUIRMING CONTEMPTUOUS ETHEREAL HATRED holding spiteful walmart eyes

Basic bitch eyes

unworthy

Lent through the opipacean of purpurine
the hammock arms the ones who beat the black in color in white
Is to the crown of your haze
which sees the sight of the might
who may cristalize her karstic behaviour painting ultramarine and far beyond
and tiny veils dance dressed on weath

They were blue and milky. Bitch had some weird eyebrows too

Her eyes were a light-grey color, emphasised by bold makeup.

As she gazed back at me, I found myself unable to ignore the sheer frigidity of the stare - not a prudish frigidity, the sheer scale of makeup made sure of that. No, she carried a poignant air of emptiness. Devoid of any emotion, her eyes appeared as artificial as the rest of her face. The false lashes on the top lid stretched desperately outwards, yearning to draw in the interest of men. A shudder penetrated the very marrow of my bones as the glacial woman fluttered those lashes at me. The mask was still perfectly intact, and yet I saw all too clearly through it. Frankly, it made me sick.

seemingly innocent, and very beautiful, but surrounded and with happiness drowned out by a discolored porcelain mask

thoughts?

only because she's looking up, ya dingus.

>ctrl f nebula
>5 posts in
oh well...