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The words you have to base your brilliance around are below
'(Park) Bench'
Get styling, you hip young cats.
WINNER
Ashman wrote:
> Playing for the jersey
>
> The yellow slides over skin,
> New day, new match, new chances.
> Strolling upon a fresh green pitch,
> Supporters aim their glances.
>
> The jersey owns me, I play for it,
> I love the Crew, I’m Columbus bred.
> It runs deep inside me, yellow blood,
> Without this passion I would be dead.
>
> Give me the ball; a sphere of chance.
> Give me a yard.
> Half a yard.
> Give me anything.
> I want to give the Crew what they deserve.
>
> ”I play for the jersey. I love Columbus.”
>
> And the shirt comes off.
> The gloves removed.
> Buddle twelve.
> CROO APPROVED.
>
> bench
Strewn with jackets, chav-esque brands.
Engraved with knives, pens and sticks,
“Moesha sux off mini-dix!!!”
And behind the bushes, in familiar shade,
Gothic scum hides torn; betrayed.
Black and white, not a colour more,
No, just no, you’re not hardcore.
Oh my, indeed, what a sight.
Of a park bench by park night.
Home to tramps and used syringes
Chavs and gimps on cider binges
Wood and metal, entwined as one,
Copper-rate, loveless deal done.
Death and grass the seated fate
Dawn wrought the gaybys, tec'ma'te.
> Bench á la Park
>
> Darkness covering your oak body
> The night caressing your bland edges
> Covered with names, loves, dates
> I want to sit on your face
I love you
3 days old
nobody sits on me anymore
fast lifestyles
they fill their time with unimportant rubbish
like the internet, jobs
and kids
A whole role says there stained with blood,
Dripping with the contents of anal excretion,
A man was preparing for a night at gaybys,
Depending on this size he may not be prepared
Collapsing I slid rythmically to the bench
I felt the hard, sturdy wood between my thighs
Deeper it crept, inside my tight ring
I began to grind my teeth and and closed my eyes
I spend my night covered
intoxicated
with tramps
Man, I hate those greedy feckers
the portaloo, the bench
the differences are great
but still the man will crouch
and continue to excrete
and then
i will sit on it
You sit there covered in man juice,
Condoms your worshipers surrounding you,
Evil syringes invade your space,
And burst your condom lovers
The End