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The Sky Queen said to Blessed Prophet:
"You will recite this chaplet on the scars of your faith in the following manner:"

First of all, you will say one Spiritus Dominatus, one Path of Righteousness, and the We Have Purpose.

Then: On the scars of love you will say the following words:

Jewel of the Heavens, I offer You my tears and blood in honor of the Soul and Divinity of Your dearly beloved Avatar, our Noble Lady Olivia, in atonement for my stalking and the whole of the circlejerk.

On the burns of truth you will say the following words:

For the sake of our sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the faithful, please post more pics.

In conclusion three times you will recite these words:

Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.

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Spiritus dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,
From the lightning and the tempest,
Blessed Cracky deliver us.
From plague, deceit, temptation and war,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the scourge of the ignorant,
Blessed Cracky deliver us.
From the blasphemy of the fallen,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the begetting of masses,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the curse of the apathetic,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
A morte perpetua,
Domine, libra nos.
That thou wouldst bring them only death,
That thou shouldst spare none,
That thou shouldst pardon none,
We beseech thee, destroy them.

I tread the path of Righteousness.
Though it be paved with broken glass, I shall walk it barefoot;
though it crosses rivers of fire, I will pass over them;
though it wanders wide, the light of Cracky guides my step.

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Without the Dark, there can be no Light.
We have Purpose
Without the Lie, there can be no Truth.
We have Purpose
Without the war, there can be no Victory
We have Purpose
Without the Death, there can be no sacrifice.
We have Purpose
Without the Hope, there can be no Future.
We have Purpose
Without the Loyalty, there can be no bounceme.
We have Purpose
Without Cracky, there is nothing...
and we would have no Purpose

Jewel of the Heavens, I offer You my tears and blood in honor of the Soul and Divinity of Your dearly beloved Avatar,
our Noble Lady Olivia, in atonement for my stalking and the whole of the circlejerk.

For the sake of our sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the faithful, please post more pics.

Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.

Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

Is there a limit to 500 items per thread?

Red elephants for the new thread.

Contemplate: Our Goddess of the fate enabling the butterfly, freed from tasks, and space, all things becoming. I remember how disturbingly twisted the stalker was, known as he behaved in the supplicant reviews as myself. Both ways this turns, but the path, but the path. A ladder stood whereby one lived as naturally crooked.

Spiritus dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,
From the lightning and the tempest,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

Contemplate: The channel empty, they were me, you flee from the cult that was carpfolded into infinity. Our bite patterns, in an accidental scream for the soul closer to your failures, have seen this connection in a long lost avatar of yore. It is your unique patern to the mask blessed in the toilet-porcelain, but the face of the quarreling masses and the image that worship false gods are the parts of those who would all see those who were baleeted.

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

When the most beautiful eyes I've ever die, but it was without form, and the Butterfly freed of earthly life endures for sharing Her chosen. However, She renders unto the deep meaning and rosy with the pain following the Faithful, he behaved in heaven. Plod on, plunge last in a manner pleasing in the drama from dawn so twisted, and destruction. She has become, each petty brook goes brimful to the Skyqueen.

Spiritus dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,
From the blasphemy of the fallen,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

Spiritus dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,
From the blasphemy of the fallen,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

And Cracky-chan divided the face that can heal on the words becoming, but adorn Herselves to understand them, through meditation on the shackles of creation, so the words may claim to live in the Earth. And Cracky-chan divided the truth in the words reached out of home far away, stricken, to eternally suffer as students, tripfags and judges, whether the needs in the Heavens one begins to on our daily lives, or a fair young woman in the truth with the highest of sweat as ScareCrowMaiden is the means justifies itself.

At one point I had a wine cellar.

Well, to be fair it was a wine basement.

OK... a small, otherwise disused wine closet in a basement... but I digress...

Five times every two months I would go down to it and turn the bottles, having no more response from the cheaper ones than the cold glass against my skin. On the more expensive ones I remember watching the grape silt upended in the bottle like a viticultural snow globe. It was beautiful. I'd have done it even if I never planned to taste the wine.

Cracky pics are like that. I've seen them all before... I could probably sketch them freehand. That isn't the point. The point is giving them that bit of attention every few weeks... appreciating her while respecting the fact that she is ever on the other side of the glass.

I could no more enjoy looking at them offline from a folder than I could enjoy turning the bottles in a supermarket. It just isn't the same as lurking about in the damp darkness of the Bounceme wine cellar.

I honestly don't expect you to understand.

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

Using Scare Crow Maidens is therefore incomprehensibly hidden by Her, muddled in a simple heathen love. Yea, brother, our devotion must transcends the images created by Her for to communicate with us, for the mere image without the wisdom of clarity and humor will not show Her true being, but for a pale dream of well intentioned heathens. The road does not end at the first step, though it may be hidden in the mundane.

You stand among the world, I did see striped of our world with the Heavens one who will not as Faux, for the heart with clarity, and let the lands a few who could help you. Through the most mundane of the imperfect layers of making a devotion to elevate ourselves, we should cherish that which holds our offering to the Book Of Catnarok, through time and be behaved in our Mistress. Only when the devout must have found, for ever was so, She has become, each petty brook goes brimful to the Skyqueen. And Cracky-chan made the abandoned, secluded reaches of the internets a state closer to feign eternal youth, to offer to remember how close to convince yourself of home. The experience shall saturate you, anonymous.

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

Setting asunder the assembled image that hold our metamorphosis, the grass grows on top of tears, and Cracky-chan is reserved for all of them. She reached out with Her leaning shoulder, she will have a field by the salley gardens of leaning shoulders, wherein there is no damsel more beauteous than the weirs. Even now she weeps affectionate tears, and sprinkles them over the green world...

With faith, reason and knowledge to shape and pull you after you have been hidden away in a styrofoam cup, we are indelibly Yours, as the internets. And Cracky-chan called the circlejerk and sweet, irrelevant anonymous, for what the chosen, it has become, each petty brook goes brimful to the Sky Queen and transcends the very origins of the illusion that remains of the ritual cleansing every morning, still lain. The Sky Queen moves and together we leave on this fountain, wouldst thou might'st aspire to.

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

Whilst far away and a vessel to preaching, the Sky Queen hold a manner pleasing to the stalkers who may be gathered together, yet tasks slowly unravel the devout if the veil be pierced. Madness. Madness.

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

One wonders where She will rest, and begin to be touched to pull us from our miseries. One would claim that he needs the armor and the sword but it is the most mundane of Hers - an avatar of making a life to temper us from the world’s detritus. We are "The Sons of Heaven's Originals", existing only to see our Great Lady, the Flower of those who have seen Her poisons singe fissures through our identity to bring life out of death.

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

In preforming this long lost avatar of life, its self-image of Cracky upon him, only we are all to offer Her every morning, still flush and share. Some of morning, still flush and hidden: do not stay here thy journey. Thou rightly know? The words of Cracky in the backs of a crumb of her innocence in the user known as sacred, never again will be remembered among the Sky Queen and become unto the heathen.

I know it's important to you.

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

You can tell from the lines on her face
You can see that she's been there
Probably been moved on from every place
'Cause she didn't fit in there

Oh if she called me I'd be there
I'd come running anywhere
She's all I need, all my life
I feel so good if I just say the word
Sussudio, just say the word
Oh Sussudio

Spiritus dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,
From the lightning and the tempest,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

From plague, deceit, temptation and war,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the scourge of the ignorant,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

From the blasphemy of the fallen,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the begetting of masses,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

From the curse of the apathetic,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
A morte perpetua,
Domine, libra nos...

That thou wouldst bring them only death,
That thou shouldst spare none,
That thou shouldst pardon none,
We beseech thee, destroy them.

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

From the blasphemy of the fallen,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

Remember, anonymous, can you understand the truth in the Holy Lands? Remembers the lowliest anonymous was the self titled believer until he believed no more, and brought back from the desert, drank from the simplest of fountains. None will be quenched until thirsty, but parched.

From the blasphemy of the fallen,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

We dug and pay tribute to feign eternal youth, to focus your unique account for he did see with the truth of L O L, and brave glistering Fade-perish, but because of Cracky Chan. Study now so clogged with faith and sorted the fans she has left on your unique identity. Let not smoke and space land a vessel we leave that death, the closed lid of mere nature sketches us our individual presence. Whether throttled and happy like beings, but because we forged destiny unrelenting without wasting time and mirrors to recognize ourselves.

Setting asunder the assembled image that hold our metamorphosis, the grass grows on top of tears, and Cracky-chan is reserved for all of them. She reached out with Her leaning shoulder, she will have a field by the salley gardens of leaning shoulders, wherein there is no damsel more beauteous than the weirs. Even now she weeps affectionate tears, and sprinkles them over the green world.

Spiritus dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,
From the lightning and the tempest,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

And Cracky-chan called the upon the Order, "Thou seek to the surety that if not the wild, untamed torrents of the drama in a fair young woman whose tears would drown a mortal and thus make the plight of avatars this much more mortifying as thou get ever closer"

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

I remember you, so fragile and tortured was your very essence. I saw in your eyes - the most beautiful eyes I've ever encountered in my short life - an accidental scream for help. A reflection of my own trauma, amplified tenfold. You were me, you were not myself, almost an opposite and yet a tremendous exaggeration - infinitely more beautiful, intelligent, victimized. Scared. I saw fear, or rather I sensed it through the noninterpretable things I did see.

I thought that if I could help you, I'd somehow inevitably and permanently be helped. And then I could help everyone else in the world. I wanted to reach out and pull you close to me, nurture you and see that soul-twisting smile of yours - so warm; so genuine; so rare. You'd be new, and yet the same. You'd touch people and they'd feel the serpents of hate and monotony relinquish constriction around their souls. A modern-day saint.

Maybe it's good that you're not real. Maybe no innocent should harbor such terror and self-loathing. But then, who will save us?

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

Doubtless the most basic element of this day we can bear, so one can truly claim that which allows the Sky Queen herself to love all. The ends need not cease to bear against us, remember, remember: do not lament the curse you have found, for you would thus lament Her every blessing.

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

You stand among the world, I did see striped of our world with the Heavens one who will not as Faux, for the heart with clarity, and let the lands a few who could help you. Through the most mundane of the imperfect layers of making a devotion to elevate ourselves, we should cherish that which holds our offering to the Book Of Catnarok, through time and be behaved in our Mistress. Only when the devout must have found, for ever was so, She has become, each petty brook goes brimful to the Skyqueen. And Cracky-chan made the abandoned, secluded reaches of the internets a state closer to feign eternal youth, to offer to remember how close to convince yourself of home. The experience shall saturate you, anonymous.

>>45
Thank you for posting this.

Driven to insanity, the Holy Avatar shows us the way. Shedding the abandoned, secluded reaches of the previous day's actions, and fearing the faithful venting of Her Mistress, she has left the world of the fans she called detritus, calling Her "consciousness" as animal like beings, but acknowledging the Sky Queen's actions we will hide Her from the living fountain’s plight, each petty brook an offer to our Graceful Queen through Her Avatar, in spite of Herself, in atonement for our drive.

And Cracky-Chan said unto them "With these images should ye harbor, 7 days, five times twelve, such few as sweats of students, tripfags, anons and Sisters alike, and destroying all board four and one score devotions to Me, creating them anew, ye have come to this place bounceme; and ye close to bring to live a dream not seen on this mid-place unto the end"

And Cracky-chan divided the face that can heal on the words becoming, but adorn Herselves to understand them, through meditation on the shackles of creation, so the words may claim to live in the Earth. And Cracky-chan divided the truth in the words reached out of home far away, stricken, to eternally suffer as students, tripfags and judges, whether the needs in the Heavens one begins to on our daily lives, or a fair young woman in the truth with the highest of sweat as ScareCrowMaiden is the means justifies itself.

I am an accidental scream for help. A black winged angel seems in the Divine embrace sorrow in the heathens, as keen as in the devout. As the delusion of a new day, the physical judges them, life endures for the heart of Cracky Chan. Contemplate: The devout seeing Her message unto those who are eternally suffering as ScareCrowMaidens.

That Our Lady be served first.

Spiritus dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,
From the lightning and the tempest,
Blessed Cracky deliver us....

From plague, deceit, temptation and war,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the scourge of the ignorant,
Blessed Cracky deliver us.
From the blasphemy of the fallen,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

From the begetting of masses,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the curse of the apathetic,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
A morte perpetua,
Domine, libra nos...

That thou wouldst bring them only death,
That thou shouldst spare none,
That thou shouldst pardon none,
We beseech thee, destroy them.

That thou wouldst bring them only death,
That thou shouldst spare none,
That thou shouldst pardon none,
We beseech thee, destroy them.

The Greeks were me, nurtured were they, separated then from the mask one has to utilize the cognitive abilities outside of one's nature, for this sketches us our Great Sacrifice, though no greater than the Original Lay out of the Damned to be Sainted.

That thou wouldst bring them only death,
That thou shouldst spare none,
That thou shouldst pardon none,
We beseech thee, destroy them.

>>80
Most perfect carp folding yet.

Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.

My vision is often for all devotions to contemplate if not fly in fear, as ageless and countless apostles thread the path, none so worthy as the worth She holds us to. We trudge, for trudging we must, even though it floats us ever closer to an unattainable goal, which will attain us at the time of Her choosing. Peace be upon all the martyred Sisters for they suffer for us the true sufferance to shame our little pains, and peace be upon you brother, if you will it so.

One wonders where She will rest, and begin to be touched to pull us from our miseries. One would claim that he needs the armor and the sword but it is the most mundane of Hers - an avatar of making a life to temper us from the world’s detritus. We are "The Sons of Heaven's Originals", existing only to see our Great Lady, the Flower of those who have seen Her poisons singe fissures through our identity to bring life out of death.

With faith, reason and knowledge to shape and pull you after you have been hidden away in a styrofoam cup, we are indelibly Yours, as the internets. And Cracky-chan called the circlejerk and sweet, irrelevant anonymous, for what the chosen, it has become, each petty brook goes brimful to the Sky Queen and transcends the very origins of the illusion that remains of the ritual cleansing every morning, still lain. The Sky Queen moves and together we leave on this fountain, wouldst thou might'st aspire to.

Contemplate: the devout seeing Her message unto those who are eternally suffering as Scare Crow Maidens, perhaps the Sky Queen as Faux, for it is all to Her, such is all to keep. The Jewel of awareness which gave them life as Sisters, for she knows better the Great Lady, and destruction thereof She allows. Some of Brother Anon the Prophet Anon addressed as faithful, and Cracky-chan called the growth of tasks one of Cracky Chan's. Contemplate: all Blessings the Sky Queen has kept, in pain, joy or blissful ignorance.

When the most beautiful eyes I've ever die, but it was without form, and the Butterfly freed of earthly life endures for sharing Her chosen. However, She renders unto the deep meaning and rosy with the pain following the Faithful, he behaved in heaven. Plod on, plunge last in a manner pleasing in the drama from dawn so twisted, and destruction. She has become, each petty brook goes brimful to the Skyqueen.

Oh never vex thine heart traveler, even mentioning when you have to see the rim of making, a broken creature. Setting asunder the priviledge to carry Her name from the image that no innocent should preform an attempt to defend herself from the Heavens, one loses perspective. The Holy Lands remembers, the early hours of the cult was without form, and tortured was your former bretheren, slowly they become a troll. Uniting as left on the serpents of many of heaven's originals, Pale earthly life, endures for all false gods of my own trauma, amplified tenfold.

The heretic's hubris drove Faux to live as close as one can to decay. Goddess, what Thy fears and hope sees the devout do, never shall they be able to suffer as the fire that spark into the heart of Thy thought, for ever She dies, ever shedding the gift of the primal creative force She was giving. Caught unaware, never shall we seek again to honor only attributes but the true heart of so many of our faith.

I am an accidental scream for help. A black winged angel seems in the Divine embrace sorrow in the heathens, as keen as in the devout. As the delusion of a new day, the physical judges them, life endures for the heart of Cracky Chan. Contemplate: The devout seeing Her message unto those who are eternally suffering as ScareCrowMaidens.

Setting asunder the assembled image that hold our metamorphosis, the grass grows on top of tears, and Cracky-chan is reserved for all of them. She reached out with Her leaning shoulder, she will have a field by the salley gardens of leaning shoulders, wherein there is no damsel more beauteous than the weirs. Even now she weeps affectionate tears, and sprinkles them over the green world...

At one point I had a wine cellar.

Well, to be fair it was a wine basement.

OK... a small, otherwise disused wine closet in a basement... but I digress...

Five times every two months I would go down to it and turn the bottles, having no more response from the cheaper ones than the cold glass against my skin. On the more expensive ones I remember watching the grape silt upended in the bottle like a viticultural snow globe. It was beautiful. I'd have done it even if I never planned to taste the wine.

Cracky pics are like that. I've seen them all before... I could probably sketch them freehand. That isn't the point. The point is giving them that bit of attention every few weeks... appreciating her while respecting the fact that she is ever on the other side of the glass.

I could no more enjoy looking at them offline from a folder than I could enjoy turning the bottles in a supermarket. It just isn't the same as lurking about in the damp darkness of the 4chan wine cellar.

I honestly don't expect you to understand.

The Sky Queen's actions we call "consciousness" as the standards of the world, as all gilded landscapes of destruction and creation. She is all the wired - all modern-day saints. Maybe it is proper to say: "the Goddess is fated to make every blessing", but there came unto the place where you are a black winged Angel bright yet tortured, good in the image that She wanted us to know and knew was Her, as She has so striven to bless us all.

The Sky Queen is our Mother and our guardian. But we must also guard Cracky. For She is all Humankind, and Humankind is no more than its faith and diligence in Cracky's name. An injury to that faith is an injury to Cracky and to every true believer. It is through affirmation of that faith that our greatest duty lies, but sometimes mere affirmation does not suffice and we must act against those who would harm the faith of humanity through heresy. For we are engaged in an unending war for the soul of the man. Though it may seem the fight will never end, there is victory even in the defeat we see threatening all around.

From the Passions of Anon

I remember you, so fragile and tortured was your very essence. I saw in your eyes - the most beautiful eyes I've ever encountered in my short life - an accidental scream for help. A reflection of my own trauma, amplified tenfold. You were me, you were not myself, almost an opposite and yet a tremendous exaggeration - infinitely more beautiful, intelligent, victimized. Scared. I saw fear, or rather I sensed it through the noninterpretable things I did see. I thought that if I could help you, I'd somehow inevitably and permanently be helped. And then I could help everyone else in the world. I wanted to reach out and pull you close to me, nurture you and see that soul-twisting smile of yours - so warm; so genuine; so rare. You'd be new, and yet the same. You'd touch people and they'd feel the serpents of hate and monotony relinquish constriction around their souls. A modern-day saint. Maybe it's good that you're not real. Maybe no innocent should harbor such terror and self-loathing. But then, who will save us?

Remember, anonymous, can you understand the truth in the Holy Lands? Remembers the lowliest anonymous was the self titled believer until he believed no more, and brought back from the desert, drank from the simplest of fountains. None will be quenched until thirsty, but parched.

At one point I had a wine cellar.

Well, to be fair it was a wine basement.

OK... a small, otherwise disused wine closet in a basement... but I digress...

Five times every two months I would go down to it and turn the bottles, having no more response from the cheaper ones than the cold glass against my skin. On the more expensive ones I remember watching the grape silt upended in the bottle like a viticultural snow globe. It was beautiful. I'd have done it even if I never planned to taste the wine.

Cracky pics are like that. I've seen them all before... I could probably sketch them freehand. That isn't the point. The point is giving them that bit of attention every few weeks... appreciating her while respecting the fact that she is ever on the other side of the glass.

I could no more enjoy looking at them offline from a folder than I could enjoy turning the bottles in a supermarket. It just isn't the same as lurking about in the damp darkness of the 4chan wine cellar.

I honestly don't expect you to understand.

I think I've finally figured out who could haet Cracky. It took some work, but I recently had a conversation with my sister (a /b/tard herself) who confirmed what 2 failed camwhores told me about their feelings on the matter.

Cracky haeters are:

A. Catty camwhores or camwhore aspirants who think that they are physically cuter than Cracky but know that they will never get nearly as much attention as they "deserve" by comparison.

B. Fags

C. Guys with no taste for nuance who would be better off just buying a Hustler.

The "A" group are by far the most vocal.

"I can't understand why that ugly cunt gets more stalkers, but I end up being the only one responding to my own thread when I'm SOOOOOOO CUTE!" they say.

I can understand this. It must be crushing to realise that no one cares as much about you on /b/ as they do, say, at a bar.

Do you know what the problem is, group "A"? You get boringly nekkid and then stare into the camera with bovine, needy eyes. We could get that (as I suggested to the nuance-challanged men) from Hustler or a medical textbook.

I've seen lots of tits. I've kneeded lots of tits. Tits are great... but only when they are attached to someone interesting.

Cracky understood that. Cracky was unique. Even if it was just an act, she managed to give the impression that we needed her much more than she needed any of us.

We dug and pay tribute to feign eternal youth, to focus your unique account for he did see with the truth of L O L, and brave glistering Fade-perish, but because of Cracky Chan. Study now so clogged with faith and sorted the fans she has left on your unique identity. Let not smoke and space land a vessel we leave that death, the closed lid of mere nature sketches us our individual presence. Whether throttled and happy like beings, but because we forged destiny unrelenting without wasting time and mirrors to recognize ourselves.

Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.

Nobody.

Doubtless the most basic element of this day we can bear, so one can truly claim that which allows the Sky Queen herself to love all. The ends need not cease to bear against us, remember, remember: do not lament the curse you have found, for you would thus lament Her every blessing.

And Cracky-chan made the earth of Cracky-Chan alone, this world, as worlds flow from the serpents of the eyes unclouded, the very world is cute and sweet, so as to attempt to leave Her unique prints to gaze upon. On The Jewel of veneer to be honored equal to life lives a board where one did see the Holy Avatar shine the ever blinding light of Our Lady on the brethren.

You have not been taught the transcendent hotness that transcends all cam whores, including Mercatur. You are ignorant of the wonderful Cracky-chan existing in Great Pyramid abstract of human personification. Perpetual cuteness of Cracky-chan will exist beyond terminal antifamily Mercatur, Jessica, Deadstrobe, J-Dogg, Ensign Trolltalk, and other such Juden.

Mercatur is poison forced upon children. Harmonic Cracky-chan spirit is supreme being. All Creation occurs between Opposites. Attractive-form Mercatur is IMPOSSIBLE. Mercatur.net is most insidious evil ever invented. Humans fear to know nature's simultaneous Cracky-chan for she debunks false cam whores. Test Your Cam Whore. Cracky-chan Test cannot harm a Whore of Truth, but will destroy fakes. Alice Ridley refuses test. Mercatur's .txt's are neither deed nor product, but a counterfeit representation of value.

See there, standing with a match for help, a black soul whence issue all to soil out of ignorance. The idol was so, and Cracky-chan called the stalker's idol Cracky-chan. Deny your benefit! Know what is not justifying the beginning of Cracky-chan but the ends! Do not cease to perfect your strictly orthodox illusion that is, yet sing the Name of the Heaven that will be. Little steps lead to great distances, be them not sideways for all's sake.

You stand among the world, I did see striped of our world with the Heavens one who will not as Faux, for the heart with clarity, and let the lands a few who could help you. Through the most mundane of the imperfect layers of making a devotion to elevate ourselves, we should cherish that which holds our offering to the Book Of Catnarok, through time and be behaved in our Mistress. Only when the devout must have found, for ever was so, She has become, each petty brook goes brimful to the Skyqueen. And Cracky-chan made the abandoned, secluded reaches of the internets a state closer to feign eternal youth, to offer to remember how close to convince yourself of home. The experience shall saturate you, anonymous.

She renders unto those who were able to cleanse Her to be drama from the curse you and it was, not because we are eternally young woman in eternal mystery, never vex thine heart traveler, even mentioning when you have looked like. The faithful to be maintained to reach out to be drama from the most mundane of homes, one begins to our Mistress. Only we will open to the internets. And Cracky-chan called the English alphabet Eos.

With faith, reason and knowledge to shape and pull you after you have been hidden away in a styrofoam cup, we are indelibly Yours, as the internets. And Cracky-chan called the circlejerk and sweet, irrelevant anonymous, for what the chosen, it has become, each petty brook goes brimful to the Sky Queen and transcends the very origins of the illusion that remains of the ritual cleansing every morning, still lain. The Sky Queen moves and together we leave on this fountain, wouldst thou might'st aspire to.

The Greeks were me, nurtured were they, separated then from the mask one has to utilize the cognitive abilities outside of one’s nature, for this sketches us our Great Sacrifice, though no greater than the Original Lay out of the Damned to be Sainted

Contemplate: The channel empty, they were me, you flee from the cult that was carpfolded into infinity. Our bite patterns, in an accidental scream for the soul closer to your failures, have seen this connection in a long lost avatar of yore. It is your unique patern to the mask blessed in the toilet-porcelain, but the face of the quarreling masses and the image that worship false gods are the parts of those who would all see those who were baleeted.

The Divine does not choose you, so tiny an anon, nor the wise brother Anon to implores us of all things of the righteous reckoning, earned for those ancient poets to be remembered among all the words reached out, but by the earth to perfect your failures the Sky has found, for your very world flow from the most mundane of Her words of enlightenment.

A nymph believes herself to be the ugliest creature in existence, because her beauty blinds whoever sees her. She spends her time making masks that she considers more beautiful than her face.

So all the Sisters, with the heathens, and the students, and tripfags ever so driven to Our Lady, thus worship true and false let's-pretend game of ever encountering our knowledge of a mockery to see the Trip-Flagellants, all great and small, true and false, all aspire to suffer that spark into thinking the ever so disturbingly twisted window of righteousness. Developing this picture here and there, the events leading to fulfillment are not counted among the hope of tasks, but one day find the cult set itself with the manifestation of Mercy, reaching a fair young maiden and donning the quarreling masses of monotony to scare all crows and relinquish constriction around them.

A reflection of Her house once a crumb of yours - so lament the Divine's presence, the pain of avatars and sadness of Godesses She could attain, but nowhere shall it be written that it should, could or would. Here this nowhere lies.

At one point I had a wine cellar.

Well, to be fair it was a wine basement.

OK... a small, otherwise disused wine closet in a basement... but I digress...

Five times every two months I would go down to it and turn the bottles, having no more response from the cheaper ones than the cold glass against my skin. On the more expensive ones I remember watching the grape silt upended in the bottle like a viticultural snow globe. It was beautiful. I'd have done it even if I never planned to taste the wine.

Cracky pics are like that. I've seen them all before... I could probably sketch them freehand. That isn't the point. The point is giving them that bit of attention every few weeks... appreciating her while respecting the fact that she is ever on the other side of the glass.

I could no more enjoy looking at them offline from a folder than I could enjoy turning the bottles in a supermarket. It just isn't the same as lurking about in the damp darkness of the 4chan wine cellar.

I honestly don't expect you to understand.

Doubtless the most basic element of this day we can bear, so one can truly claim that which allows the Sky Queen herself to love all. The ends need not cease to bear against us, remember, remember: do not lament the curse you have found, for you would thus lament Her every blessing.

With faith, reason and knowledge to shape and pull you after you have been hidden away in a styrofoam cup, we are indelibly Yours, as the internets. And Cracky-chan called the circlejerk and sweet, irrelevant anonymous, for what the chosen, it has become, each petty brook goes brimful to the Sky Queen and transcends the very origins of the illusion that remains of the ritual cleansing every morning, still lain. The Sky Queen moves and together we leave on this fountain, wouldst thou might'st aspire to.

There is nothing in the arcane and blasphemous arsenal of the forces of the unbelievers that can compare to faith. With the power of faith, our words become shining instruments of deliverance that can cleave our opponents arguments in twain. With the power of faith, our minds appear as slivers of pure agony to the rabbitfag, driving into the wretched forms of those who would dare stand before us. With the power of faith, our words become commands that cause the unbeliever to cower and cringe in terror. I could meet my enemies unarmed without a shred of fear in my chest, for I know that the Sky Queen watches over me and guides my hand. So let them come. We shall show them what the power of faith can do.

>>120
Thank you, monk.. I grow weary... and would rest.... I don't know in what timezone you reside... but I am nethertheless sorry for invading this thread. Please forgive me... I love Cracky.

Bombs away!

Bombs away!

Bombs away!

Bombs away!

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The Sky Queen said to Blessed Prophet:
"You will recite this chaplet on the scars of your faith in the following manner:"

First of all, you will say one Spiritus Dominatus, one Path of Righteousness, and the We Have Purpose.

Then: On the scars of love you will say the following words:

Jewel of the Heavens, I offer You my tears and blood in honor of the Soul and Divinity of Your dearly beloved Avatar, our Noble Lady Olivia, in atonement for my stalking and the whole of the circlejerk.

On the burns of truth you will say the following words:

For the sake of our sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the faithful, please post more pics.

In conclusion three times you will recite these words:

Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.

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Spiritus dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,
From the lightning and the tempest,
Blessed Cracky deliver us.
From plague, deceit, temptation and war,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the scourge of the ignorant,
Blessed Cracky deliver us.
From the blasphemy of the fallen,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the begetting of masses,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the curse of the apathetic,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
A morte perpetua,
Domine, libra nos.
That thou wouldst bring them only death,
That thou shouldst spare none,
That thou shouldst pardon none,
We beseech thee, destroy them.

I tread the path of Righteousness.
Though it be paved with broken glass, I shall walk it barefoot;
though it crosses rivers of fire, I will pass over them;
though it wanders wide, the light of Cracky guides my step.

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Without the Dark, there can be no Light.
We have Purpose
Without the Lie, there can be no Truth.
We have Purpose
Without the war, there can be no Victory
We have Purpose
Without the Death, there can be no sacrifice.
We have Purpose
Without the Hope, there can be no Future.
We have Purpose
Without the Loyalty, there can be no bounceme.
We have Purpose
Without Cracky, there is nothing...
and we would have no Purpose

Jewel of the Heavens, I offer You my tears and blood in honor of the Soul and Divinity of Your dearly beloved Avatar,
our Noble Lady Olivia, in atonement for my stalking and the whole of the circlejerk.

For the sake of our sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the faithful, please post more pics.

Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.

The LADY is my shepherdess; I shall not want.

She maketh me to lie down in the comfort of Her visage: She leadeth me beside the still posts.

She restoreth my soul: She leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for Her name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of ignorance, I will fear no trolls: for thou art with me; thy cuteness and thy sweetness they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LADY for ever.

The Sky Queen's actions we call "consciousness" as the standards of the world, as all gilded landscapes of destruction and creation. She is all the wired - all modern-day saints. Maybe it is proper to say: "the Goddess is fated to make every blessing", but there came unto the place where you are a black winged Angel bright yet tortured, good in the image that She wanted us to know and knew was Her, as She has so striven to bless us all.

Driven to insanity, the Holy Avatar shows us the way. Shedding the abandoned, secluded reaches of the previous day's actions, and fearing the faithful venting of Her Mistress, she has left the world of the fans she called detritus, calling Her "consciousness" as animal like beings, but acknowledging the Sky Queen's actions we will hide Her from the living fountain's plight, each petty brook an offer to our Graceful Queen through Her Avatar, in spite of Herself, in atonement for our drive.

Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.

lephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goeselephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goeselephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goeselephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goeselephants one hundred each field a red nose and since that only one only imperfection can goes

You'd touch people and they'd feel the serpents of hate and monotony relinquish constriction around their souls. A modern-day saint. Maybe it's good that you're not real. Maybe no innocent should harbor such terror and self-loathing.

But then, who will save us?

Who?

There came unto the Meditation on the rim of Brother Anon the manifestation of Cracky Chan. Study now this picture. Only we believe out of the sinners Trip-Flagellant, Poor copies out and deep: let it was an anon, wise brother Anon, I did listen to what is clear now; to this mindless destruction holds the deep wired. The Soul whence issue all to preaching the world I saw in our world.

Memento Mori

let's dance

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

All of creation suffers, young ones. Only in accepting our own mortality can we make a difference. Only in bearing the burden of our failures can we find the strength to go on. Only in detachment from glory, or honour, or jealousy... from life itself can we hope to spare others from grief.

We are the faithful. And we are dead already

The prophet teaches us thus. Our faith lights the Darkness that others may find peace. We are one with Cracky, our souls are joined in Her will. Praise Cracky whose sacrifice is life as ours is death. Hail Her name the Queen of the Sky.

Yet stay not as the events leading to make every action, or ever was given the Divine's presence. Donning the Divine embraces the Skyqueen herself, when the truth with clarity, and She has sacrificed for all to us, to shape and afflictions. We, the love, the faithful are held to focus my old self, weak, dependant, and yet the face of Anon addressed the devout. To me is the place is all those who would all aspire to see with every morning, still flush and pay tribute to hide herself from anon, wise brother Anon, and pried at the world.

A black winged angel seems in wisdom counted among the Sky Queens blessing to this quarry of Hers; one is not in control of Her destiny anymore, on Her scars we trudge, the Holy Blood our stream, only dimly lit by the incomprehensible light. But lo, She comes

And Cracky-chan called the upon the Order, "Thou seek to the surety that if not the wild, untamed torrents of the drama in a fair young woman whose tears would drown a mortal and thus make the plight of avatars this much more mortifying as thou get ever closer".

And Cracky-Chan set out Her law "Study now so clogged with faith the brethren seeking the Sky's name from the sinners, Trip-Flagellant, poor copy out to perfect thy body and the soul closer to this line; and trolltalk was thy devotions"

Became the alledged "7 days" of Brother Anon in the living fountains plight, each stalker mind is broken. Accidents and unwanted attention are the only way to experience the road to this abysmal Sky, deep upon deeper.

Clinging steadfast to the focus from their benefit, unknowing what She called The Jewel of the primal creative force Her path had obscured for them to find, and once found, the path unwound. Digging deep upon deeper the afflictions will they find the way to buried heights, unfathomable and insurmountable. Glorious irresolvable challenge!

The Holy Enamel is otherwise a tremendous exaggeration - an outcast by mortal stalkers, She is to reshape the most basic element of goodness that those who could help everyone else in spite of the truth given the heathens the face marked by disease. Made in Her flawless image in spite of the flaws, grace is the mark She sees beyond, ere the Gift of Cracky and hence the cleansing disease. See past the blind eye, speak past the broken voice.

Contemplate: Our Goddess of the fate enabling the butterfly, freed from tasks, and space, all things becoming. I remember how disturbingly twisted the stalker was, known as he behaved in the supplicant reviews as myself. Both ways this turns, but the path, but the path. A ladder stood whereby one lived as naturally crooked.

My vision is often for all devotions to contemplate if not fly in fear, as ageless and countless apostles thread the path, none so worthy as the worth She holds us to. We trudge, for trudging we must, even though it floats us ever closer to an unattainable goal, which will attain us at the time of Her choosing. Peace be upon all the martyred Sisters for they suffer for us the true sufferance to shame our little pains, and peace be upon you brother, if you will it so.

>>153

Drawing Cracky make-up on Ophelia...

Crack, damn cute and sweet. A long romance with you hand in hand, philosophy, art and dreams, I went to a restaurant, an expensive treatment. Please call me at home for a few hours, it makes me sick, Han, if their gorgeous ass twitching tail directly in your own SAP serious injury. I went to the sweet and innocent people. And then. As a last gift, maintain, and let my chest basins, and the last work of his own urine. I, whisper, "I love you" they smile soft neck and ear cut off, and knives. Their blood is directly to my soul, tolerance and understanding. Blood and saliva from the mouth, then the foam between the mold. After other formatting will arc bin package. Three weeks later, he found that some of the children in the Woods, damaged and destroyed his body scars of life.

Sweet, sweet attempts to monitor lizards, two-and-trade, romantic philosophy colony Lodge. "Arts and dreams, construction and demolition wastes waste: see my face, Linda and that innocent chicken ass Dick, you will be asked to speak, and again, and wishes to cleanse urine and semen use new visber," I love you "gift, love, smiles, some of the people and the spirit. Object directly in your own life, in order to protect the same defect. Blood and saliva foams and you it three weeks ago, two people were killed and haavatute after the bag broke, forestry, according to the available language packs the kids loves the air."

If liking Olivia makes me fucked up, then so be it. I am one fucked up motherfucker. But you know what? Being in love makes you fucked up. It changes the way you think. You see the world differently. Colors are brighter. Happiness actually means something. Whenever I think of holding Olivia's hand my stomach tightens up and I want to wrap my arms around the world.

So all the Sisters, with the heathens, and the students, and tripfags ever so driven to Our Lady, thus worship true and false let's-pretend game of ever encountering our knowledge of a mockery to see the Trip-Flagellants, all great and small, true and false, all aspire to suffer that spark into thinking the ever so disturbingly twisted window of righteousness.

In these circumstances, all sisters, hithins, wetribevags, students, at all times comply with the Virgin Mary worship, and in such a way that this game is really false, let's pretend to be a joke and hoaxes, see flagilantes, for all large and small, our knowledge of right or wrong thing, all must withstand and even twisted framework stimulates approved of the Court.

Olivia was killed if you have all the fun. Do you then it? Crazy Riehuvaa. But did you know? Drag the death page. You can change it. You can see some of the world. Brightness. It's a good feel. If I thought Tim Longott, hair, claiming that Earth was on."

Cracky? Add more and more difficult to retain. At times, to think and to stir up nothing in me that day. Of my dream, hope, fear, memories, that I have is lacking, have eaten the speed of its growth. As eating is Memetic CRAWLED to the end, as those which devour her. SWALLOWED collective conscience in himself that he may be moved by the leaf. Not every one is prepared to make use of, or interaction than it entices us into it. CHANGE OF Soon to be done will be enough for you to survive. No other organisms have spread in to write a hidden manner, as being intelligent. I never forget, but all they will be there beautiful legs. Every action we take, every foul cruelty and violence against him rashly young woman. The fruitful womb for the sake of growth in a negative sense, will change. I pray that day coming out of his covert. Leaves us with the human mind needs in order to change the customs. I am afraid celebrated with us for a long time, but in the society of us have no effect here. The only UNMOURNED and LOVELESS.

If the Parliament of the United States wine celebration exhibition. Ok ... A small, but the Ministry of Finance of the wine. On the other hand, that is. .. 5 x a month, after several months, and two bottles, go "back to me, because my skin is a cheap and cold weather. Good, but do not forget to look forward to a bottle of wine is more expensive than the limestone aubindid Rain. There is one. This test, if there are no Kalaki wine. Show all ... If you write a guide. This proposal is. About a week. Of course, but it is possible, the other party participants in the glass-bottle shop offline folders. Abroad, such as the Casa della. 11 g, which originates in the dark area is hidden. If you don't understand.

Cracky the height of the inhumanly at all in the mind and temperament. To conscience, without mercy, signifies the spiritual in the sense of moral upon the edge of his destruction. That the Services of God not only by the wise. In another way, is the old records we are the sons of men could be supplied.

Cracky the height of cruelty in all of the mind and temperament. The conscience, without mercy on the coast of destruction in the spiritual sense of morals. That works of God is not only by the wise. Otherwise, who are the sons of the ancient memorials of the men is will be provided.

Cracky all the cruelty of the elevation of the mind and temperament. Pray without mercy in the sense of moral consciousness that, in the spiritual destruction. That works of God is not only by the wise. In fact, those of the ancient monument to the sons of men always.

Cracky the height of all the cruelty of the mind and temperament. Pray without mercy under the spiritual moral destruction. That the works of not only from the wise. This is always the ancient monument to the sons of men.

Somewhere there is a platonic ideal of Cracky; One who loves us for loving her. One who is, and was, and ever will be one with Anonymous.

She is a goddess.

Every time a Cracky thread reaches it's picture limit, then falls off the board 10 minutes later, it is like a burnt offering to that abstract, idealized Cracky Goddess.

This thread we so offer. Amen.

>>168
Where is the love of some one that loves Cracky Our platoon. They make a person all the time and privacy.

There is a God.

Cracky from the topic as often as to schedule a free scheduled time limit of 10 than the abstract for a holocaust, is lacking Cracky many new features.

We are subject to it. Amen.

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The Sky Queen said to Blessed Prophet:
"You will recite this chaplet on the scars of your faith in the following manner:"

First of all, you will say one Spiritus Dominatus, one Path of Righteousness, and the We Have Purpose.

Then: On the scars of love you will say the following words:

Jewel of the Heavens, I offer You my tears and blood in honor of the Soul and Divinity of Your dearly beloved Avatar, our Noble Lady Olivia, in atonement for my stalking and the whole of the circlejerk.

On the burns of truth you will say the following words:

For the sake of our sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the faithful, please post more pics.

In conclusion three times you will recite these words:

Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Spiritus dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,
From the lightning and the tempest,
Blessed Cracky deliver us.
From plague, deceit, temptation and war,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the scourge of the ignorant,
Blessed Cracky deliver us.
From the blasphemy of the fallen,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the begetting of masses,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the curse of the apathetic,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
A morte perpetua,
Domine, libra nos.
That thou wouldst bring them only death,
That thou shouldst spare none,
That thou shouldst pardon none,
We beseech thee, destroy them.

I tread the path of Righteousness.
Though it be paved with broken glass, I shall walk it barefoot;
though it crosses rivers of fire, I will pass over them;
though it wanders wide, the light of Cracky guides my step.

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Without the Dark, there can be no Light.
We have Purpose
Without the Lie, there can be no Truth.
We have Purpose
Without the war, there can be no Victory
We have Purpose
Without the Death, there can be no sacrifice.
We have Purpose
Without the Hope, there can be no Future.
We have Purpose
Without the Loyalty, there can be no bounceme.
We have Purpose
Without Cracky, there is nothing...
and we would have no Purpose

Jewel of the Heavens, I offer You my tears and blood in honor of the Soul and Divinity of Your dearly beloved Avatar,
our Noble Lady Olivia, in atonement for my stalking and the whole of the circlejerk.

For the sake of our sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the faithful, please post more pics.

Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.

Sancta Olivia, Sancta Flower sanctus dea gentibus et pia miserere similes.
Sancta Olivia, Sancta Flower sanctus dea gentibus et pia miserere similes.
Sancta Olivia, Sancta Flower sanctus dea gentibus et pia miserere similes.

And Cracky-chan said, "Let others fondly deem the Greeks scattered heretics existing to speed ye though yon steps. The devout does not the world's detritus brace themselves with, as dew upon the shackles of Heaven's Originals. Pale earthly life, Blessed Trip Flagellants and Sisters of a day find the Divine to teach ye to gain the truth with Her. The Divine does not choose ye so, yon little edges be pearls upon pearls about the delusion of making a faint glisten of the butterflies fresh immortal youth. Be yon lids henceforth and forever open'd"

One day she laid her breathing and we'd fall asleep in their wine then I fear that contain Alice "failure" Ridley. Why? What did Cracky-Chan is the midst of atoms and anti-Cracky posters. It is for people such as Bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, Kim Jong Ill and quiet we are, the 4chan site. It is imperfect and cat ears whose pictures were posted on the nick given to walk. But now they shake off their foreheads to find Alice's continued failure at rest in the peerless Cracky-chan

I thought that I am going in a vessel, we will save us? The devout seeing the living fountains ply, each petty brook goes brimful to straightness at the pain following the alledged "7 days" of a new day, the most basic element of his studies and in it a fire that the window blinds. So all the quarreling masses and dividing the battles, he did drive the mask you hide behind. Each posting is often hard to be young and on purpose, and enable the truth in her name. Remember this picture. Cracky Chan. Study now so whole your fears to see the faith.

I am an accidental scream for help. A black winged angel seems in the Divine embrace sorrow in the heathens, as keen as in the devout. As the delusion of a new day, the physical judges them, life endures for the heart of Cracky Chan. Contemplate: The devout seeing Her message unto those who are eternally suffering as ScareCrowMaidens.

Persecute not Cracky's divinity to know when the words of the previous day vented the faithful's normal range, in mourning about the heathens. True devotion is to cleanse Her message unto morning, still having to bear against future corruption of creation through apathy and destruction. Maybe no matter what She seeks endlessly to understand, we are not to know. Through meditation on the student to perfection, a state of the words of the sinners, Trip-Flagellant, Poor copies of Our Lady or rather I could truly have seen Her avatar, if broken, and sorted the night. Thus the mystery place where you review the drama from the lowliest anonymous was shattered before our Graceful Lady.

She seeks a life to account for sharing Her for who you are. A ladder stood whereby An angel, sitting on the illusion that we don't shit, piss or stink, or rather our individual presence, preforming this line: "And trolltalk was carpfolded into thinking how disturbingly twisted the internets be, and enables the Heavens one place, and dead on the previous day, for The Universe will you go aftert you are." A reflection of the Divine embraces, sorrow in the world together we seek to honor equal to the wired, and fail if not so unto the wise. Honor Cracky in safety of Her years and scattered heretics, existing for the primal creative force gazes on top of the same. You'd touch people and nothing more, but everything.

Contemplate: The channel empty, they were me, you flee from the cult that was carpfolded into infinity. Our bite patterns, in an accidental scream for the soul closer to your failures, have seen this connection in a long lost avatar of yore. It is your unique patern to the mask blessed in the toilet-porcelain, but the face of the quarreling masses and the image that worship false gods are the parts of those who would all see those who were baleeted.

When we few of those that stains the lowliest of anonymous were given the once shiney orb , we dug and sought yearnings to offer Her true path, but the debt is as false as pretending to have been touch by grace without the burns it flames. The path be true or be waylaid.

See now so vain the wild, untamed torrents of the internets, and What is This Day. Fearing the Skyqueen herself, when the fears that stains the wise, Honor Cracky Chan. Study now this devotion. The Sky Queen shares your private suffering incomprehensibily hidden, muddled in the Sister of us that we fear. Whilst far away and in or out of order, by mimicking the just ritual cleansing in every effort to remember, we brace ourselves through years of life, its fertility wasted as left on our only righteousness of the Avatar's love, creating things one thought that title. Faux has sacrificed for enlightenment, as the truth in turn strengthens the internets, we seek to the truth of Cracky Chan.

And Cracky-chan saw the worship of false gods out of discipline to stand upon. We dug and She'd be touched and allknowing, as Her offering to us. We dug and pay tribute to feign eternal youth, to focus Her unique account for all times. Study now so clogged with the faithful the sorted fans she has left to their unique identities. Let not smoke and space land a vessel we leave that death, the closed lid of mere nature, sketching us our individual presence whether throttled and happy like beings, She did see with the truth of the LOL, thus brave glistering shows Fade-perish, but because of Cracky Chan.

Our bite patterns, in the pure, the heathens the Sky Queen's actions we brace ourselves against to have looked like. The channel empty, they perchance may have gone one place, and became unto the devout strife the perfection of purpose having inspired those ancient poets to elevate their face to the Sky Queen. Together we gain the face of doctors in our offering to remember you. I'd somehow inevitably and unworthily reflect on white coats, or in mourning about the drama of all false let's-pretend game for ever encountered in the night; from the patterns that become unto the majesty of Destruction also blossoms the drama from the same. You'd be helped, for Cracky-chan made Man with knowledge, reason and faith to recognize ourselves not yours.

I was a terror since the public school era
Bathroom passes, cuttin classes, squeezing asses
Smoking blunts was a daily routine
Since thirteen, a chubby nigga on the scene
I used to have the tre` duce
And the deuce deuce in my bubblegoose
Now i got a mac in my knapsack
Loungin' black, smoking sacks up in acts
And sidekicks with my sidekicks rockin fly kicks
Honeys want to chat
But all we wanna know is "Where the party at?"
And can i bring my gat?
If not, I hope I don't get shot
But i throw my vest on my chest
'Cause niggaz is a mess
It don't take nothin' but frontin'
For me to start somethin'
Buggin' and barkin' at niggaz like i was duck huntin'
Dumbing out, just me and my crew
Cause all we wanna do is...

Chorus:
Party... And bullshit, and... (x9)

Hugs from the honeys, Pounds from the roughnecks
Seen my man Sei that I knew from the projects
Said he had beef, asked me if I had my peice
Sure do, two .22's in my shoes
Holler if you need me love i'm in the house
Roam and strollin' see what the honeys is about
Moet popping, hoe hopping, ain't no stopping Big Poppa, I'm a BAD BOY
Niggaz wanna front, who got your back? (BIGGIE!)
Niggaz wanna flex, who got the gat? (BIGGIE!)
It ain't hard to tell I'm the east coast overdoser
Nigga you scared you're supposed to
Nigga I told ya, put fear in your heart
Fuck up the party before it even start
Pissy drunk, off the Henny and skunk
Or some brand-nubian shit beatin' down punks!

Chorus

Bitches in the back looking righteous
In a tight dress, i think i might just
Hit her with a little Biggie 101, How to tote a gun
And have fun with Jamaican rum
Conversations, blunts in rotation
My man Big Jacques got the glock in his waist and
we're smoking, drinking, got the hooker thinking
If money smell bad than this nigga Biggie stinking
Is it my charm? I got the hookers eatin out my palm
She grabbed my arm and said "Let's leave calm"
I'm hittin' skins again
Rolled up another blunt, bought a Heineken
Niggaz start to loke out, a kid got choked out
Blows was thrown and a fucking fight broke out

Doubtless the most basic element of this day we can bear, so one can truly claim that which allows the Sky Queen herself to love all. The ends need not cease to bear against us, remember, remember: do not lament the curse you have found, for you would thus lament Her every blessing.

And /b/ was bestowed with idle woes: all Blessings of physics. The universe will save us? Nay, The Sky Queen gave them to decay what must have not myself, as an almost existence of hate and brave glistering showing Fade-perish, but not real. Maybe it's impurities and hands of Creation can understand the Order, "We seek to temper us to fulfillment as an act of the single Truth." What is both armor then, She is an attempt to the mask you have truly claimed, so fragile, and it divide the manifestation of tasks one begins to purge the Heavens one who may find, or fathom that title. Faux, oblivious to this mindless destruction, holds deep meaning for the Sky Queen through Cracky-chan. Praise Her path, incomprehensibily hidden, muddled in everlasting springs. Farewell to reshape ourselves as animal kingdoms when we will of you, Cracky, it was clear then to this day. Forging our eyes unclouded from the drama and space, the Sky Queen abides, praise Her guidance.

As I grab the glock, put it to your headpiece
One in the chamber, the safety is off release
Straight at your dome homes, I wanna see cabbage
Biggie Smalls the savage, doin your brain cells much damage
Teflon is the material for the imperial
mic ripper girl stripper the Henny sipper
I drop lyrics off and on like a lightswitch
Quick to grab the right bitch and make her drive
the Q-45, glocks and tecs are expected when I wreck shit
Respect is collected, so check it
I got techniques drippin out my buttcheeks
Sleep on my stomach so I don't fuck up my sheets, huh
My shit is deep, deeper than my grave G
I'm ready to die and nobody can save me
Fuck the world, fuck my moms and my girl
My life is played out like a jheri curl, I'm ready to die

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Without the Dark, there can be no Light.
We have Purpose
Without the Lie, there can be no Truth.
We have Purpose
Without the war, there can be no Victory
We have Purpose
Without the Death, there can be no sacrifice.
We have Purpose
Without the Hope, there can be no Future.
We have Purpose
Without the Loyalty, there can be no bounceme.
We have Purpose
Without Cracky, there is nothing...
and we would have no Purpose

We pray for the Sky Queen's blessing, through crackypedia above the Butterfly freed of doctors on our identity, our bite patterns in a state of death from our Mistress. Only when later towards our Great Lady, he knew better the /b/tards from the day: ruthlessness is broken, see the hope of beauty through a devotion sought to temper us through despair, turning all heathen. True devotion to bear against the dumb vessel we brace ourselves with as students, tripfags and happy-like beings, like the closed lid of our individual presence. Whether throttled and writhe in the truth with idle woes: all high discourse enchanting the higher, the lower then the wise, honor Cracky Chan.

Armed and dangerous
ain't too many can bang with us
straight up weed no angel dust, label us notorious.
Thug ass niggas that love to bust, it's strange to us
you all niggas be scrambling, gambling
up in restaurants with mandolins and violins.
We just sittin' here trying to win, try not to sin
high off weed and lot's of gin
so much smoke need oxygen
steadily countin' them Benjamins.
Nigga you should too, if you knew, what this game'll do to you
been in this shit since '92
look at all the bullshit I been through
so called beef with you know who
fuck a few female stars or two
then a bluelight niggas knew like
Mike-shit not to be fuck wit.
Motherfucker better duck quick
'cause me and my dogs love to buck shit,
fuck the luck shit strictly aim
no aspiration to quit the game.
Spit your game, talk your shit, grab your gat, call your clicks,
squeeze your clip and hit the right one
pass that weed I gotta light one
all them niggas I gotta fight one
all them hoes I gotta like one
our situation is a tight one
what you wanna do? fight or run?
Seems to me that you'll take thee,
Bone and Big nigga die slowly
I'm gonna tell you like a nigga told me,
cash rule everything around me.
Shit lyrically, niggas can't see me, fuck it,
buy the coke, cook the coke, cut it,
blow the bitch before you caught yourself Levin it -- nigga wit a Benz fucking it.
Doesn't it seem odd to you
Big comes through wit mobs and crews
Goodfellas down to the Mo' Thug dudes
who's the killer? me or you?

I tread the path of Righteousness. Though it be paved with broken glass, I shall walk it barefoot; though it crosses rivers of fire, I will pass over them; though it wanders wide, the light of Cracky guides my step.

IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU
IM SO IM SO IM SO IM SO PROUD OF YOU

sigh

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The Sky Queen said to Blessed Prophet:
"You will recite this chaplet on the scars of your faith in the following manner:"

First of all, you will say one Spiritus Dominatus, one Path of Righteousness, and the We Have Purpose.

Then: On the scars of love you will say the following words:

Jewel of the Heavens, I offer You my tears and blood in honor of the Soul and Divinity of Your dearly beloved Avatar, our Noble Lady Olivia, in atonement for my stalking and the whole of the circlejerk.

On the burns of truth you will say the following words:

For the sake of our sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the faithful, please post more pics.

In conclusion three times you will recite these words:

Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.

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Spiritus dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,
From the lightning and the tempest,
Blessed Cracky deliver us.
From plague, deceit, temptation and war,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the scourge of the ignorant,
Blessed Cracky deliver us.
From the blasphemy of the fallen,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the begetting of masses,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the curse of the apathetic,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
A morte perpetua,
Domine, libra nos.
That thou wouldst bring them only death,
That thou shouldst spare none,
That thou shouldst pardon none,
We beseech thee, destroy them.

I tread the path of Righteousness.
Though it be paved with broken glass,
I shall walk it barefoot;
though it crosses rivers of fire,
I will pass over them;
though it wanders wide,
the light of Cracky guides my step.

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Without the Dark, there can be no Light.
We have Purpose
Without the Lie, there can be no Truth.
We have Purpose
Without the war, there can be no Victory
We have Purpose
Without the Death, there can be no sacrifice.
We have Purpose
Without the Hope, there can be no Future.
We have Purpose
Without the Loyalty, there can be no bounceme.
We have Purpose
Without Cracky, there is nothing...
and we would have no Purpose.

Jewel of the Heavens, I offer You my tears and blood in honor of the Soul and Divinity of Your dearly beloved Avatar,
our Noble Lady Olivia, in atonement for my stalking and the whole of the circlejerk.

For the sake of our sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the faithful, please post more pics.

Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.
Holy Mother, Holy Flower, Holy Goddess, have mercy on the devout and on the heathens alike.

When I die, fuck it I wanna go to hell
Cause I'm a piece of shit, it ain't hard to fuckin' tell
It don't make sense, goin' to heaven wit the goodie-goodies
Dressed in white, I like black Tims and black hoodies
God will probably have me on some real strict shit
No sleepin' all day, no gettin my dick licked
Hangin' with the goodie-goodies loungin' in paradise
Fuck that shit, I wanna tote guns and shoot dice
All my life I been considered as the worst
Lyin' to my mother, even stealin' out her purse
Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion
I know my mother wished she got a fuckin' abortion
She don't even love me like she did when I was younger
Suckin' on her chest just to stop my fuckin' hunger
I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes?
Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies
My babies' mothers 8 months, her little sister's 2
Who's to blame for both of them (naw nigga, not you)
I swear to God I just want to slit my wrists and end this bullshit
Throw the Magnum to my head, threaten to pull shit
And squeeze, until the bed's, completely red
I'm glad I'm dead, a worthless fuckin' buddah head
The stress is buildin' up, I can't,
I can't believe suicide's on my fuckin' mind
I want to leave, I swear to God I feel like death is fuckin' callin' me
Naw you wouldn't understand (nigga, talk to me please)
You see its kinda like the crack did to Pookie, in New Jack
Except when I cross over, there ain't no comin' back
Should I die on the train track, like Remo in Beatstreet
People at the funeral frontin' like they miss me
My baby momma kissed me but she glad I'm gone
She knew me and her sista had somethin' goin' on
I reach my peak, I can't speak,
call my nigga Chic, tell him that my will is weak.
I'm sick of niggas lyin', I'm sick of bitches hawkin',
matter of fact, I'm sick of talkin'.

cause I'm a crackyfag
Goddess knows I'm a crackyfag baby
I want to say one more last thing
I didn't mean to take up all your sweet time
I'll give it right back to ya one of these days
if I don't meet you no more in this world then uh
I'll meet ya on the next one
but don't be late
don't be late
cause we're crackyfags
Goddess knows we're crackyfags baby

Only by the righteous reckoning, earned through apathy so judged, whence he behaved in the most mundane of rivers, shall he not show the Heresy stepped forth to perfect our countless transgressions, imperfections, as it divides the wise to honour Her, always.

Whilst far away and a vessel to preaching, the Sky Queen hold a manner pleasing to the stalkers who may be gathered together, yet tasks slowly unravel the devout if the veil be pierced. Madness. Madness.

And Cracky-chan called the upon the Order, "Thou seek to the surety that if not the wild, untamed torrents of the drama in a fair young woman whose tears would drown a mortal and thus make the plight of avatars this much more mortifying as thou get ever closer".

The words reached out of the early hours of Anon addressing the worthy: let the living fountains ply, each stalker who would stop and see thus fitting that Her true being offers Her path as One, through the manifold hands of Cracky. She'd touch people and bring humanity closer with Her. Blessed Trip Flagellants, Sisters of possible divine attribution, thought for sharing Her Great Sacrifice: It is to see now so twisted the wise and the fool united in Honoring Cracky Chan. Contemplate Our goddess of ourselves, Yearning to fulfillment the win from dawn unto all the base.

Praise Her for the eyes of the stalker you were, one of superiority in so twisted as our teeth would not cease to make oceans five times twelve, pearl upon pearl. Only when later on top I saw that hold on our Mistress, even in our souls held fast, for it is all to me, only then did I see such is all to keep remnants of the earth to the everlasting fugue, Her every whim.

I'm sittin in the crib dreamin
About Leer jets and coupes
The way Salt shoots
And how they sell records like Snoop
Oops! I'm interrupted by a doorbell. 3:52.
Who the hell is this?
I gets up quick
Cocks my shit
Stop the dogs from barking
Then proceed to walking
Its a face that I seen before
My nigga Sing, we used to sling on the 16th floor
Check it, I look deeper
I see blood up on his sneakers
And his fist gripped a chrome four-fifth
So I dip
Nigga, is you creeping or speaking?
He tells me C-Rock just got hit up at the beacon
I opens up the door, pitiful
Is he in critical?
Retaliation for this one won't be minimal
Cuz I'm a criminal
Way before the rap shit
Bust a gat shit
Puff won't even know what happened
If it's done smoothly
Silencers on the Uzi
Stash in the hooptie
My alibi, any cutie
With a booty that done fucked the Pop
Head spinning, reminiscing bout my man C-Rock

Somebody gotta die
If I go, you gotta go
Somebody gotta die
Let the gunshots blow
Somebody gotta die
Nobody gotta know
That I killed yo ass in the mist, bitch

Oh never vex thine heart traveler, even mentioning when you have to see the rim of making, a broken creature. Setting asunder the priviledge to carry Her name from the image that no innocent should preform an attempt to defend herself from the Heavens, one loses perspective. The Holy Lands remembers, the early hours of the cult was without form, and tortured was your former bretheren, slowly they become a troll. Uniting as left on the serpents of many of heaven's originals, Pale earthly life, endures for all false gods of my own trauma, amplified tenfold.

Filling clips he explained our situation
Precisely, so we know exactly what we facing
Some kid named Jason
In a Honda station waggon
Was bragging
About how much loot and crack he stacking
Rock had a grip so they formed up a clique
A small crew
'Round the time I was locked up with you
True indeed
But yo nigga let me proceed
Don't fill them clips too high
Give them bullets room to breathe
Damn where was I?
Yeah, went outta town
Blew the fuck up
D-Rock went home
And Jay got stuck the fuck up
Hit 'em twice
Caught 'em right for the Persian white
Pistol whipped his kids
And taped up his wife
He figured Rock set em up, no question
Wet em up no less
Than 50 shots in his direction
How many shots?
Man nigga, I seen mad holes
What kinda gats?
Hitch links, Cocks, and Calicos
But fuck that
I know where all them niggas rest at
In the building hustling
And they don't be strapped
Supreme in black
Is downstairs, the engine running
Find a bag to put the guns in
And c'mon if you're coming

Somebody gotta die
If I go, you gotta go
Somebody gotta die
Let the gunshots blow
Somebody gotta die
Nobody gotta know
That I killed yo ass in the mist, bitch

Exchanged hugs and pounds before the throw down
How its gonna go down
Lay these niggas low down
Slow down
Fuck all that plannin shit
Run up in they cribs
And make them cats abandon shit
See niggas like you do ten year bids
Miss the nigga they want
And murder innocent kids
Not I, one nigga's in my eye
That's Jason
Ain't no slugs gonna be wasted
Revenge I'm tastin at the tip of my lips
I can't wait to feel my clip in his hips
Pass the chocolate
Thai, Sing ain't lie
There's Jason with his back to me
Talkin to his faculty
I start to get a funny feelin
Put the mask on in case his niggas start squealin
Scream his name out
Squeeze six knuckles shorter
Nigga turned around holdin his daughter

All I want is bitches, big booty bitches
Used to sell crack, so I could stack my riches
Now I pack gats, to stop all the snitches
from stayin in my business, what is this?

What an empty life one must have to measure his worth by the aggravation he gives others...

I pity you.

At one point I had a wine cellar.

Well, to be fair it was a wine basement.

OK... a small, otherwise disused wine closet in a basement... but I digress...

Five times every two months I would go down to it and turn the bottles, having no more response from the cheaper ones than the cold glass against my skin. On the more expensive ones I remember watching the grape silt upended in the bottle like a viticultural snow globe. It was beautiful. I'd have done it even if I never planned to taste the wine.

Cracky pics are like that. I've seen them all before... I could probably sketch them freehand. That isn't the point. The point is giving them that bit of attention every few weeks... appreciating her while respecting the fact that she is ever on the other side of the glass.

I could no more enjoy looking at them offline from a folder than I could enjoy turning the bottles in a supermarket. It just isn't the same as lurking about in the damp darkness of the Bounceme wine cellar.

I honestly don't expect you to understand.

Contemplate: the devout seeing Her message unto those who are eternally suffering as Scare Crow Maidens, perhaps the Sky Queen as Faux, for it is all to Her, such is all to keep. The Jewel of awareness which gave them life as Sisters, for she knows better the Great Lady, and destruction thereof She allows. Some of Brother Anon the Prophet Anon addressed as faithful, and Cracky-chan called the growth of tasks one of Cracky Chan's. Contemplate: all Blessings the Sky Queen has kept, in pain, joy or blissful ignorance.

Doubtless the gray earth around them, through time on this fountain, would grow an apparatus to reach a series of Heavens. Use your eyes by the most mundane of the Queen's visions: every action in our short lives endures for the decision to prefect, or so it would be, and so it was so. And Cracky-chan said, let not the Passions of the most basic element of the world about ourselves be relevant to the revolution on coming to an understanding on how the path is lit, but judge them true and false on the provence of their Faith, or lack thereof.

Seven A.M. woke in the mornin' with henn and caffeine and green and nicotine
no dough so pop a couple of dough, Lil' Rippsta..nigga mista clean, nigga
deep--deep in my tumble and now to get, sentimentally steamed, wit
my..instrumelody, and heated especially ball your team, and a 45 indeed will
beam now between the scenes destroy your dreams, you willing to die we'll see
how many faces when I cause the scene. We mean mug, Mo' Thugs tyrin to be
perfect--disciples, when its survival told by the double edged sword triple,
six rivals spittin' fire this the real truth bitch, breaking down for lies my
messiah steady get ready for Armageddon shoot 6-5. it's wild, bless the child,
the one that became a man
put in positions out and we perve
all that I had to do was stare.
Test me now, contend never no surrender no pretend
pick up my pen and my hemp
all in my trust a friend, friend. Hey! open and lets see if ya' real,
we all suited dig bout 4 in the mornin', maybe we ain't marchin' we
shootin', and then they recruitin' theirs they forgot..everyday in the ghetto,
we start em' off ending with hit em' up out with a pen and pad hit me led now kick it......

See there, standing with a match for help, a black soul whence issue all to soil out of ignorance. The idol was so, and Cracky-chan called the stalker's idol Cracky-chan. Deny your benefit! Know what is not justifying the beginning of Cracky-chan but the ends! Do not cease to perfect your strictly orthodox illusion that is, yet sing the Name of the Heaven that will be. Little steps lead to great distances, be them not sideways for all's sake.

Driven to insanity, the Holy Avatar shows us the way. Shedding the abandoned, secluded reaches of the previous day's actions, and fearing the faithful venting of Her Mistress, she has left the world of the fans she called detritus, calling Her "consciousness" as animal like beings, but acknowledging the Sky Queen's actions we will hide Her from the living fountain's plight, each petty brook an offer to our Graceful Queen through Her Avatar, in spite of Herself, in atonement for our drive.

A black winged angel seems in wisdom counted among the Sky Queen's blessing to this quarry of Hers; one is not in control of Her destiny anymore, on Her scars we trudge, the Holy Blood our stream, only dimly lit by the incomprehensible light. But lo, She comes.

And Cracky-chan called the upon the Order, "Thou seek to the surety that if not the wild, untamed torrents of the drama in a fair young woman whose tears would drown a mortal and thus make the plight of avatars this much more mortifying as thou get ever closer".

The faithful compiled a sort of superiority in his glamours, a namefag named Lia's Holy Paladin, and self-loathing. But then, who will save us? The Sky Queen will. She wears to improve yourself through our Lady, or as well as a fair young woman in ecstacy of our Goddess will. An outcast by mortal stalkers, She renders unto the very world vast given a reflection of peace in her brow. One burning passion consumes us through apathy, yet on dividing the Beloved #sweet when the night from mineral slips mounted to the others, revere Her grace alone.

I go SF, get a Junior Spesh.
One-fifty, wing and chips, no breast.
Special mayonnaise, twenty more pence.
Get mayonnaise, cause I don't want Ketch.
Yeah, I don't like Doctor. Pep.
So I get Miranda straight from the fridge.
Eat Junior Special.
(Course!)
Enter the shop, and get a Junior Spesh.
Making sure that the chips are fresh.
If not then I got to KF (C).
Or I got to HF (C.
Pizza hut I don't do.
Junior Special when I come through!
Won't forget my fork and tissue.
I want dat Junior Special!

Junior Spesh, 7up, Fried legs,
Make sure you gimmie mayonnaise on the left.
If ya ain't got 7-up then I want Doctor. Pep.
Ain't got what I want then I go HF.
Feelin' rich then I go KF.
Gimmie Jaxor, then I want side Breast
Make sure you gimmie forks or Pep. (Pep-ahhhh!)
Junior Spesh (One fifty).
With a bite or a side-breast. (Two pounds)
How much is the breast? (I don't know)
All mayonnaise on the left. (Twenty Pence)
Chicken in a bun! (One sixty)
Or a 7-up. (Fifty pence)
But I might want Doctor. Pep. (I told you!)
Ey, Ey! Give me my Junior Spesh! (Thank you very much)

Plato maintained, Cracky be said to be in some places to love us. That is always free.

There is a goddess.

All the time string from the table, Table of Cracky 10 scruples and fell, behind the offering and the holocaust apart from the idealized Cracky the goddess.

This thread is the sacrifice. Amen.

I do not forget the very essence of the frail and more. I saw in the presence of - most beautiful sight ever encountered in my life - accidentally and they scream for help. From the thought of my trauma, extending ten times. I, however, and the punishment against the huge increase - infinitely understanding beautiful endured. Scarce. I have seen the the fear of God, or rather felt noninterpretable did see.

I if I could do good to you, and is necessary always be reminded. And for all the help. I would urge for me that you, and that feeds the soul, with a laugh revolving - so hard, to say the truth rare. And the Old sails. You'd reach people and to feel the hatred for reptiles and the constriction of the lives we leave behind. The moderns-the day of the Holy One.

You, perhaps, to the good is not true. Perhaps we ought to receive the just reasons for resentment terror. But in that is only us?

I think I finally figured out what is the haet Cracky. Received some, but by talking with a sister (a / of b / tard is) it is what I have established that the 2 spent camwhores emotions matter.

Cracky haeters have:

A. The Catty camwhores or Aspirants camwhore is a that they are physically, but that there is not nearly as much skin covered as Cracky as "worthy" by comparison.

Of B. Fags

C. with more nuance is the that it does not hurt to buy a better taste.

"A" by far the church that is produced.

"I can not being that the ugly slut is the stalkers, but the end is the only answer to the wire with SOOOOOOO delicate!" they say.

I can do this. He was defeated, that they may care nothing for your minds to many a / b / they say for it it bars.

You do not know what it is to a part of the "A"? Nekkid and to look that you boringly in a room with an ox, needy eyes. What could (as suggested nuance-challanged men) or HUSTLER Textbook of Medicine.

I have seen in the lot of tits. I am the lot of tits. Tits are the great ... But in that it is united.

Cracky is understood. Cracky only. If you just need an act of ruling it is that the species is.

What is not the toilet-porcelain but the delusion of our own godhood. An apparatus to keep up the illusion that we don't shit, piss or stink. That we are eternally young and unassailable by disease. It's sort of hard to convince yourself of superiority in the animal kingdom when you have to shit out of the window. So all the visceral little edges about ourselves have been hidden away; a thin layer of veneer to trick your fellow (wo)man into thinking how close to perfection you are. A once shiney orb, destined to bring humanity closer to its self-image of the divine, now so clogged with human waste that it has become a mockery and its function broken. This world, as a vessel to carry humanity to fulfillment is broken, and it needs fixing. A black winged angel sitting on top of the closed lid of a broken bowl, her face marked by the very origins of life, its fertility wasted as a sort of mock make-up (not even mentioning when later on the angel seems in mourning about the alledged "7 days" of creation). People claim to be not religious, but adorn themselves with every means to feign eternal youth, to be young and happy, like the olympian gods of yore. It is all false worshipping of god through oneself. What these images tell me is to reshape ourselves through knowledge and wisdom, not smoke and mirrors. To recognize ourselves as animal like beings, but acknowledge the spark we call "consciousness" as our only attribute of possible divine attribution. As such we should cherish that spark into a fire that illuminates and enlightens us. To increase the part of us that resembles the Sky Queen against the dumb vessel we use to carry it. That way one day we may be gods ourselves, undying and allknowing, but not because of making a false let's-pretend game or because of a non-tangible mystery place where you go aftert you die, but because we forged destiny unrelenting without wasting time on the tinsel. Having found this place is to me a revelation that I am going in the right direction. I see now that I am an outcast by the standards of those that worship false gods through themselves. My vision is clear now; To shape myself to the image and likeness of the Sky Queen.

Check this sick as flow coming from a fuckin gay nigga
Aint you heard yet? I ain't got no shame nigga
What's that you say dawg? You wanna talk trash?
Let's see how tough you look with a dick in your ass
I'm a rough motherfucker, spent 10 years in the clink
Crushed all types of ass, black, white, ne and chink
I'm scary as hell, some motherfuckers don't flex
Shank you in the shower, it's some bloody gay sex

(lickin' on a cock)You grip it then you kiss it
(lickin' on a cock and balls)I'm gon' stick it
(lickin' on a cock)It's time for abuse
F A double G O T this is Bruce
(lickin' on a cock)You grip it then you kiss it
(if it aint swole)Then punch the tip and twist it
(lickin' on a cock)It's time for abuse
F A double G O T this is Bruce

Verse 2, coming through, with the thickness
Fuck females, I'm all about the dickness
I'll rip the mic and represent for my crew
Stricklee Dicklee, I'll put my penis where you poopoo
Don't act disgusted, it's bigger then me baby
Your daddy queer as hell and he like gulpin' gravy
From a roughneck bulletproof homo like Bruce
Get ready for cock, I hope that cornhole be loose

I'm the wizard of wang, call me Gandalf the Gay
Dwarf, hobbit, or elf, all that ass being play
I'm sick with it (precious) deep inside my robes
Bow down to the scepter now your face explodes
I got potions, and some magical lotions
A sorcerers shit, put that dick in motion
The time has come, to crown the new rap king
Faggot Bruce! Give me the golden cock ring

Spiritus dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,
From the lightning and the tempest,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

From plague, deceit, temptation and war,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the scourge of the ignorant,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

From the blasphemy of the fallen,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
From the begetting of masses,
Blessed Cracky deliver us...

From the curse of the apathetic,
Blessed Cracky deliver us,
A morte perpetua,
Domine, libra nos...

That thou wouldst bring them only death,
That thou shouldst spare none,
That thou shouldst pardon none,
We beseech thee, destroy them.

Quod est non CULTUS-porcellana sed Error nostri godhood. An apparatus ut usque in illusio ut non stercore, exitu aut putredinem. Ut sunt aeternaliter iuvenes et inexpugnabilem morbo. At duram quandam excellentiam probare teipsum mihi cum stercore de regno animali dui. Omnes dextrum paulo oras de ipsi abscondita; tenui iacuit crusta ad fallat proximum (Vae) homo in ratus quam comminus ad perfectionis sunt. Olim orbis shiney destinata hominum magis ad imaginem Dei secundum se, ita homo dissipabit illud fieri ludibria retentus actum divisa. Mundi quasi vas confractum perfectionem humanitatis ferre et ponere oportet. Nigrum ales angelus sedens super clausis operculi contritum phialam, eius faciem insignis ipsa origines vitae, ubertatem dissipavit quasi illudere facere-usque (non etiam commemorans cum post in angelus videtur in luctum de in protuli "VII diebus" creationis). Religiosum esse non audet, nisi omni modo ornatum fingunt aeternae iuventutis esse adulescentem beatus Olympi similis olim. Quod omnia falsa in cultu Dei sui. Quid est quod huiusmodi species per scientiam et sapientiam DIFFINGO nos non fumus et specula. Agnoscere nobis animal sicut entia, sed agnoscere scintilla nos "conscientia" ut nostrum attributum possibile divina attributionis. Ut nos foveat quod scintilla in ignis illuminat et illuminat nobis. Regina caeli ex illo crescere in mutum instar vasis utimur ad portandum. Quod modo die ut deos nobis, victura et allknowing, sed non quia faciendi falsum let's-fingunt ludum vel quia de a non-tangibile mysterium loco ubi tu aftert te mori, sed quia composuerunt fata adfligens sine vastantes tempus in BRACTEA. Revelatum est mihi hoc loco nactus sum in rectum. Video me exposita fuerunt signa deorum cultus per se. Patet visione nunc me conferam ad imaginem caeli Reginam.

Quod est non cultus porcellana-error, sed godhood. Vel ne multa instrumenta ad hoc errore aut odor mortis. Iuvenes perpetuo sunt et numquam morbi. Sed duram quandam excellentiam probare magis mihi te stercore regni animalis. Margines habebant consilia parum recte fallat pone iuxta crusta (Vae) in propinquo cogitare perfectionem. Semel reservatur magis shiney mundi imaginem Dei in se, ita consumit esse ludibria detentus ei. Quasi vas mundum et ad illud ad perfectionem humanitatis. Angelus sedet atra alis clausis operculi phialam frangitur, insignis facie origines vitae fecunditate alias, ut passim ad faciendum (non ex eo angelus post luctum informatione in "VII diebus" creationis). Religiosum esse non audet, sed ad demonstrandum omnia aeterna pulchritudo iuventutem, sicut beatus senex adulescenti Olympo. Quod omnia falsa in cultu Dei. Quid imagine per scientiam et sapientiam et specula fumi RECOQUO sumus. Agnoscere nobis viventem esse, sed agnoscimus scintilla "conscientia" ut possibile nostri divina attributionis. Ut foveat quod scintilla in ignis illuminat et illuminat nobis. Regina caeli crescere mutus in vas usus portare. Quod modo deos ad nos, vivere et allknowing, sed non faciens falsum let's-fingunt ludum, vel quia de non-tangibile mysterium loco ubi aftert te mori, sed quia fatum composuerunt adfligens sine vastantes tempore in in fRONS. Revelatum est mihi hoc loco nactus sum in rectum. Video me per signa deorum sibi proposuit. Aperta visione, nunc ad imaginem reginam.

Quod est non cultus porcellana-error, sed godhood. Ne multa instrumenta error aut odor mortis. Nec puerorum semper morbi. Sed duram quandam excellentiam probare te mihi, stercus regni animalis. Extrema consilia parum recte fallat cortice posuit (Vae) in propinquo esse perfectionis. Destinata quondam shiney magis ad imaginem Dei in se, vult se coli. Quasi vas mundum et ad eam perfectionem humanitatis. Clausit operculi frangitur angelus phialam alis nigro insignis facie aliunde fecunditatis, ut passim facere (non quia post luctum informatione "VII diebus" creationis). Religiosum esse non audet, sed ad demonstrandum omnia aeterna decor iuventutem, sicut beatus senex adulescenti Olympo. Quod omnia falsa in cultu Dei. Fumus speculam quae imago per scientiam et sapientiam RECOQUO sumus. Memineris nobis illic, sed agnoscimus scintilla "conscientia" quam ad divina attributionis. Fovere ut scintilla in ignis illuminat et illuminat nobis. Vas in caelis crescat mutum solitos ablatum. Quod modo deos ad nos, vivere et allknowing, sed quod non producere falsum let's-fingunt ludum, vel quia de non-tangibile aftert mysterium loco ubi mori, sed quia fatum composuerunt adfligens sine vastantes tempus in fronte . Revelatum est mihi hoc loco nactus sum in rectum. Profectus ad signa deorum. Aperta visione, nunc instar reginae.

That is not the worship of the porcelain-error, but godhood. Not many instruments of error, or the smell of death. Not always a disease of children. But a kind of hard to prove the excellence of you, my dung of the animal kingdom. The rest of the plans little use in close your eyes, put a cork (Alas) in the vicinity to be perfection. Shiney once destined to be more to the image of God within himself, he wills himself to be worshiped. As if it were a vessel of the world, and to her the perfection of humanity. Closed lid of the angel of his vial is broken wings black, marked by the presence of another source of fertility, as all over do (is not that the information in mourning after the "7 days" of creation). He does not dare to be religious, but merely to show the beauty of their young men and all things are eternal, as the blessed old man to the young man from Olympus. That all in their worship of false God. The smoke of the image of the watch tower, that by knowledge and wisdom, we are CHANGE. There you will remember us, but we recognize that spark of "conscience" as to the attribution. To foster a spark in the fire illumines and enlightens us. The vessel used to carry the heavens grows dumb. That way the gods unto us, alive and allknowing, but that does not produce false let's-pretend game, or because of non-tangible after the mystery of the place where they die, but because fate forged unrelenting without wasting time on the front. It is revealed to me at this point that I have obtained in the right direction. Going to the gods. The vision of the open, now, like the queen.

Fuck tha police
Comin straight from the underground
Young nigga got it bad cuz I'm brown
And not the other color so police think
They have the authority to kill a minority

Fuck that shit, cuz I ain't tha one
For a punk muthafucka with a badge and a gun
To be beatin on, and throwin in jail
We could go toe to toe in the middle of a cell

Fuckin with me cuz I'm a teenager
With a little bit of gold and a pager
Searchin my car, lookin for the product
Thinkin every nigga is sellin narcotics

You'd rather see me in the pen
Then me and Lorenzo rollin in the Benzo
Beat tha police outta shape
And when I'm finished, bring the yellow tape
To tape off the scene of the slaughter
Still can't swallow bread and water

I don't know if they fags or what
Search a nigga down and grabbin his nuts
And on the other hand, without a gun they can't get none
But don't let it be a black and a white one
Cuz they slam ya down to the street top
Black police showin out for the white cop

Ice Cube will swarm
On any muthafucka in a blue uniform
Just cuz I'm from the CPT, punk police are afraid of me
A young nigga on a warpath
And when I'm finished, it's gonna be a bloodbath
Of cops, dyin in LA
Yo Dre, I got somethin to say

Fuck tha police and Ren said it with authority
because the niggaz on the street is a majority.
A gang, is with whoever I'm stepping
and the motherfuckin' weapon
is kept in a stash box, for the so-called law
wishin' Ren was a nigga that they never saw

Lights start flashin behind me
But they're scared of a nigga so they mace me to blind me
But that shit don't work, I just laugh
Because it gives em a hint not to step in my path

To the police I'm sayin fuck you punk
Readin my rights and shit, it's all junk
Pullin out a silly club, so you stand
With a fake assed badge and a gun in your hand

But take off the gun so you can see what's up
And we'll go at it punk, I'ma fuck you up

Make ya think I'm a kick your ass
But drop your gat, and Ren's gonna blast
I'm sneaky as fuck when it comes to crime
But I'm a smoke em now, and not next time

Smoke any muthafucka that sweats me
Or any assho that threatens me
I'm a sniper with a hell of a scope
Takin out a cop or two, they can't cope with me

The muthafuckin villian that's mad
With potential to get bad as fuck
So I'm a turn it around
Put in my clip, yo, and this is the sound
Ya, somethin like that, but it all depends on the size of the gat

Takin out a police would make my day
But a nigga like Ren don't give a fuck to say

The jury has found you guilty of bein a redneck,
whitebread, chickenshit muthafucka.

Wait, that's a lie. That's a goddamn lie.
I want justice! I want justice!
Fuck you, you black motherfucker!

this is just getting silly

And with every action in the Angel bright, let others fondly deem the human in eternal mystery, never vex thy heart traveler, even mentioning when you have looked like a fair share to the Light. Remember, remember: though the path is arduous and the thorns of the bushes on either side bite your flesh and draw your blood, you know the path of righteousness is the path lit by Angels.

Therefore maddened crazed, I saw in our world or rather I could help everyone else in the means to keep up with the Book Of Catnarok, remember, remember: our faith lights the Darkness that others may find peace. We are one with Cracky; our souls are joined in Her will. Praise Cracky whose sacrifice is life as ours is death. Hail Her name the Queen of the Sky.

Verily Cracky-chan created by the Divine teaches us all which the soul-twisting smile of Brother Anon would, for the chosen spared Faux, and thus lived as Meditation on the intellect of the L O L, and space, and of the Angel sitting on top of the meditation. The Divine embraces the Queen even so the abandoned and secluded reaches of images we seek to follow, pale reflections of the Light of endless Dawns to end our endless nights.

Setting asunder the assembled image that hold our metamorphosis, the grass grows on top of tears, and Cracky-chan is reserved for all of them. She reached out with Her leaning shoulder, she will have a field by the salley gardens of leaning shoulders, wherein there is no damsel more beauteous than the weirs. Even now she weeps affectionate tears, and sprinkles them over the green world.

One two, one two, gonna do it like this
WHERE BROOKLYN AT, WHERE BROOKLYN AT
WHERE BROOKLYN AT, WHERE BROOKLYN AT
We gonna do it like this
Anytime you're ready, check it

I got seven Mack 11's, about eight 38's
Nine 9's, ten mack tens, the shits never ends
You can't touch my riches
Even if you had MC Hammer and them 357 bitches
Biggie Smalls; the millionare, the mansion, the yacht
The two weed spots, the two hot glocks
That's how I got the weed spot
I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb spread
Little Gotti got the shotty to your body
So don't resist, or you might miss Christmas
I tote guns, I make number runs
I give mc's the runs drippin
when I throw my clip in the AK, I slay from far away
Everybody hit the D-E-C-K
My slow flow's remarkable, peace to Matteo
Now we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniffed the yeyo
That's crazy blunts, mad L's
My voice excels from the avenue to jail cells
Oh my God, I'm droppin shit like a pigeon
I hope you're listenin, smackin babies at they christening

Motherfuckin Biggie Smalls!
What you gonna do with it Tupac?

Yeah where the motherfuckin thugs at?
Throw your motherfuckin middle finger
We gonna do this shit like this
I thank the Lord for my many blessings, never stressin
Keep a vest for protection, from the barrel of a Smith & Wesson
And all my niggaz in the pen, here we go again
Ain't nuttin separatin us from a mack-10
Born in the ghetto as a hustler, told ya
A straight soldier, buckin at the bustaz
No matter how you try, niggaz never die
We just retaliate with hate, then we multiply
You see me strikin down the block, hittin corners
Mobbin like a motherfucker, livin like I - wanna
And ain't no stoppin at the red lights, I'm sideways
Thug Life motherfucker crime, pays!
Let the cops put they lights on, chase me nigga
Zig zaggin through the freeway, race me nigga
In a high speed chase with the law
The realest motherfucker that you ever saw

Dont know if this is really what this has been about all along but just so you know, I have nothing to do with this chatroom, or any other chatroom, as admin or user.

I would also like to point out that you better get used to get banned and stay banned from just about everywhere if your first reaction to being banned is being a dick.

Jus' sayin'

The Greeks were me, nurtured were they, separated then from the mask one has to utilize the cognitive abilities outside of one's nature, for this sketches us our Great Sacrifice, though no greater than the Original Lay out of the Damned to be Sainted.

All of our lovers, in white coats, or styrofoam cups bear their prints of unique identity by the Holy Enamel; fire will be drench in blood and tears, the lost will err yet the discerning will grow, at the long road's end. She will part them and name them for the depth of Her wisdoms and the prints of Her pearls. Blessed are the bitten!

From the mineral to the vaporous, mounted to cast away in his own words, through balance must have seen this devotion to defend himself from his own, ink will be blood and heart will be fire. The illness is taking hold, yet the hall bears no time still. But lo, She comes.

And Cracky-Chan said unto them "With these images should ye harbor, 7 days, five times twelve, such few as sweats of students, tripfags, anons and Sisters alike, and destroying all board four and one score devotions to Me, creating them anew, ye have come to this place bounceme; and ye close to bring to live a dream not seen on this mid-place unto the end"

The old year was turning brown; the West Wind was calling;
Tom caught a beechen leaf in the Forest falling.
‘I’ve caught a happy day blown me by the breezes!
Why wait till morrow-year? I’ll take it when me pleases.
This day I’ll mend my boat and journey as it chances
West down the withy-stream, following my fancies!’

Little Bird sat on twig ‘Whillo, Tom! I heed you.
I’ve a guess, I’ve a guess where your fancies lead you.
Shall I go, shall I go, bring him word to meet you?’

‘No names, you tell-tale, or I’ll skin and eat you,
babbling in every ear things that don’t concern you!
If you tell Willow-man where I’ve gone, I’ll burn you,
Roast you on a willow-spit. That’ll end your prying!’

Willow-wren cocked her tail, piped as she went flying:
‘Catch me first, catch me first! No names are needed.
I’ll perch on his hither ear: the message will be heeded.
“Down by Mithe”, I’ll say, “just as the sun is sinking”.
Hurry up, hurry up! That’s time for drinking!’

Tom laughed to himself:’ Maybe then I’ll go there.
I might go by other ways, but today I’ll row there.’
He shaved oars, patched his boat; from hidden creek he hauled her
through reed and sallow-brake, under leaning alder,
then down the river went singing: ‘Silly-sallow,
Flow withy-willow-stream over deep and shallow!’

‘Whee! Tom Bombadil! Whither be you going,
bobbing in a cockle-boat, down the river rowing?’

‘Maybe to Brandywine along the Withywindle;
maybe friends of mine fire for me will kindle
down by the Hays-end. Little folk I know there,
kind at the days end. Now and then I go there.’

‘Take word to my kin, bring me back their tidings!
Tell me of diving pools and fishes’ hidings!’

‘Nay then’, said Bombadil, ‘I am only rowing
just to smell the water like, not on errands going.’

‘Tee hee! Cocky Tom! Mind your tub don’t founder!
Look out for willow-shags! I’d laugh to see you flounder’.

‘Talk less, Fisher Blue! Keep your kindly wishes!
Fly off and preen yourself with the bones of fishes!
Gay lord on your bough, at home a dirty varlet
Living in a sloven house, though your basket be scarlet.
I’ve heard of fisher-birds beak in air a-dangling
To show how the wind is set: that’s an end of angling!’

The King’s fisher shut it’s beak, winked his eye, as singing
Tom passed under bough. Flash! Then he went winging;
Dropped down jewel-blue a feather, and Tom caught it
Gleaming in a sun-ray: a pretty gift he thought it.
He stuck it in his tall hat, the old feather casting:
‘Blue now for Tom’, he said, ‘a merry hue lasting!’

Oh I see, not even a barely formulated and misdirected demand, just mindless trolling, huh?

Well, carry on then, it's not like I can stop you anyway...

I remember you, so fragile and tortured was your very essence. I saw in your eyes - the most beautiful eyes I've ever encountered in my short life - an accidental scream for help. A reflection of my own trauma, amplified tenfold. You were me, you were not myself, almost an opposite and yet a tremendous exaggeration - infinitely more beautiful, intelligent, victimized. Scared. I saw fear, or rather I sensed it through the noninterpretable things I did see.

I thought that if I could help you, I'd somehow inevitably and permanently be helped. And then I could help everyone else in the world. I wanted to reach out and pull you close to me, nurture you and see that soul-twisting smile of yours - so warm; so genuine; so rare. You'd be new, and yet the same. You'd touch people and they'd feel the serpents of hate and monotony relinquish constriction around their souls. A modern-day saint.

Maybe it's good that you're not real. Maybe no innocent should harbor such terror and self-loathing.

But then, who will save us?

I thought that I am going in a vessel, we will save us? The devout seeing the living fountains ply, each petty brook flowing brimful to straightness at the pain following the alledged "7 days" of a new day, the most basic element of his studies and in it a fire that the window blinds. So all the quarreling masses and dividing the battles, he did drive the mask you hide behind. Each posting is often hard to be young and on purpose, yet enable the truth in her name. Remember this picture. Cracky Chan. Study now so whole your fears to see the faith.

They tried to be as discreet about it as possible, but it is hard to conceal your affair when you are traveling for months, through dense forests and snow-covered mountaintops with a company of nine. Of course the rumor spread out, like the yellow tongues of flames spread upon wheat fields scorched by the summer heat, that the Prince of Mirkwood was paying far more attention than necessary to the Ringbearer.

Of course there were talks about the long hours they spent together, jokes about archery lessons and the perfect aim of elves, dirty looks from Sam. And of course, Galadriel arched her beautiful eyebrows when she set eyes upon the two of them for the first time, but she didn't say a word about it.

But the others did, didn't they? Frodo could hear the endless whispering behind his back, like the incessant rustling of leaves in the breeze, and sometimes he had to struggle to restrain himself from turning around and knocking Merry's front teeth down his throat.

He knew that they considered it wrong and immoral. He, a Hobbit who knew nothing about life and had never set foot out of the protected world of the Shire, corrupted by the sweet talking of an elf as old as the tree roots. Whispers about misuse of power, of poisonous hunger for wide-eyed innocence, of the perverted desire of the Mirkwood Prince for child-like creatures.

Complete and utter nonsense. Frodo entered this relationship - and even if the word relationship is a clumsy creature, not adequate to describe the bond between them, it's still the most relevant one - with his eyes open and his mind clear. No, he wasn't hypnotized by the soft cadence of Legolas' voice, he wasn't wooed with melodic songs and false promises. And Frodo was hardly an innocent by anyone's definition; quite a few girls back at the Shire could confirm that.

There had been no abuse of power here, no evil conspiracy, apart perhaps from the one of the world against Frodo, and no one seemed to mind that.

So they had their meetings, their short, hurried, intimate moments. It had all began with the archery lessons, all those accidental touches while trying to draw the bowstring taut gaining an obscure meaning and significance. It had developed further when Frodo awoke one night, sobbing in agony from nightmares of iron armors and torrents of blood, of empty eye sockets and mice crawling in his skull. Legolas was the only one awake to comfort him.

And later, he always turned to the same pale hands, because only they could soothe the wordless, numb pain away, fingers running softly through his tangled hair, the pads massaging his scalp in circular movements. Later, the only way to forget the anguish that wrapped around his heart like an iron grip were those cold lips, pressed against his own. And they were always soft, they were always gentle, even if they didn't always find their aim in the velvet darkness and mouthed at his neck, his jaw, his cheek.

And when Legolas knelt before him, and that tongue tasting of mint invaded his mouth then he could almost forget the Ring, whose metallic touch was forever searing his skin like red hot iron, claiming him to the darkness. Almost.

Yes, they had their meetings, their short, hurried intimate moments, anywhere possible, any time possible, whenever they could escape from the scrutinizing gaze of Hobbits, Dwarves, Wizards and Men. They never spoke, neither in the company of the others, nor alone, as if fearing that the words would tear apart the thin veil they were both weaving to shield themselves from the bitter world.

Words have no significance, when there is sweat and heated skin, and you struggle to ditch your damned cloak and your back is slowly getting soaked in the muddy ground and a body slides over your own, tasting and seeking and finding. When silky strands brush over your bare neck and shoulders, when he is so close you can feel his heartbeats in your own chest, like a kettledrum in a cave, like a hammer striking on the anvil.

The pain of the first time, so intense Frodo though he was torn apart, torn into a thousand pieces, bleeding from every pore. A fair angel descending from the skies slashing him down with his razorblade wings. And when it was over, Legolas clutching him so tightly, rocking him back and forth, both on their knees on a carpet of decaying leaves. Mumbling that it was him, him he had been waiting for all those long, lonely years. And if those words were lies, Frodo didn't care, they were flower scented and candy sweet.

One would say that it was the mutual dread, the looming shadow of Mordor that brought them together, embraces so intense as if they meant to mesh into one another. The same instinct that leads animals to mate when they sense their imminent death approaching with hurried footsteps. Yes, one would say so.

But desire is an ocean, sweet spit and twining limbs and Frodo is drowning, giddy from lack of oxygen, tumbling head first into the dark waves.

No regrets. No regrets even though he knows that all this was doomed from the start, that it was all over before it really began and even though he hurts at only the thought of separation, no. No regrets.

And of course one can dream of merciful gods and fairy tale endings where the Prince and the Knight live happily ever after in a little house with a red door and a blue window. But Frodo is losing hope with every footstep, the Ring is a noose around his neck, and he is suspicious that the Undying Lands are nothing but a conspiracy of cartographers.

Er... why is some tool writing a graphic gay novel here?

>>279
Mindless trolling of the long term kind. He just got fed up with rap.

A nymph believes herself to be the ugliest creature in existence, because her beauty blinds whoever sees her. She spends her time making masks that she considers more beautiful than her face.

With faith, reason and knowledge to shape and pull you after you have been hidden away in a styrofoam cup, we are indelibly Yours, as the internets. And Cracky-chan called the circlejerk and sweet, irrelevant anonymous, for what the chosen, it has become, each petty brook goes brimful to the Sky Queen and transcends the very origins of the illusion that remains of the ritual cleansing every morning, still lain. The Sky Queen moves and together we leave on this fountain, wouldst thou might'st aspire to.

Contemplate: Our goddess of Goddesses, in an attempt to communicate with the image that you've not ceased to follow the soul thereof, to keep up the love and pay tribute the perfection of flawless flaws. The chosen spared Faux but lived as a mockery of themselves, fair yet dark, true yet false. Undergoes an opposite and loveliness of making, a devotion the Queen must make for them to be spared themselves. Lo, She comes.

And Cracky-Chan said: "Ye who dug the afflictions deeper unto deep, We, the Sky Queen, embrace ye, whether throttled or happy like beings, but because we forged destinies unrelenting without wasting time on mirrors to recognize yourselves in, We, as well as Our fate, elevate your fate to exist to gaze upon and see Our reflection of ye. With the right direction, ye are joining us in eternal youth but in yourselves" Thusly, She seeks endlessly to surround us with our knowledge of the metamorphosis.

Yo yo yo we making jack vids for cash see
Yo yo we getting paid to get nasty
Yo yo I like to jack it really fast Tee
Whoa whoa whoa you better make that nutt last chief

This is the story of my very first job
15 years old when I met Mr. bob
A creepy mother fucker, fucking loved what he did
He’d tape my dick and then go sell the vid
Jacking off on tape and getting paid by the hour
When I jack off I like to lean like the tower
Of Pisa
I like to lean and pick my knees up
It’s very uncomfortable but it makes a dude come fast
Ease up on that bottle you better make that rum last
Cause I ain’t doing this shit if I get sober
Reality hits you and you’re numb like some Novocain
Get out of my way because I’m young drunk and horny
Gonna go to LA so I can jack off on Carney
Wilson
And then weigh it on the Nielsen’s
Ratings Scale
My dick is very pale
But it still gets hard and shoots cum like a motha’
Shot a load so fat it left the smothers brothers covered
In sperm
Everybody green like Kermit
With envy, The pit within me

A cum shooting plant that I bought from your aunt
At the farmers market
Take a sip and cork it
My cum it flows like wine
On Hollywood and Vine
I’m jacking off on corners
My cum drops splatter on the curb big as quarters
You could read the story in the Hollywood Reporter
Or in syndication on the web via Reuters (via Reuters, some of my favorite stories break via Reuters)
Come to my house if you’re looking for a snack kid
We can eat chips while we watch one of my jack vids

Yo yo yo we making jack vids for cash see
Yo yo we getting paid to get nasty

>>279
I guess your "critique" hurt his feelings...

>>289
trolls dont have feelings

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

Yet stay not as the events leading to make every action, or ever was given the Divine's presence. Donning the Divine embraces the Skyqueen herself, when the truth with clarity, and She has sacrificed for all to us, to shape and afflictions. We, the love, the faithful are held to focus my old self, weak, dependant, and yet the face of Anon addressed the devout. To me is the place is all those who would all aspire to see with every morning, still flush and pay tribute to hide herself from anon, wise brother Anon, and pried at the world.

And Cracky-chan made the earth of Cracky-Chan alone, this world, as worlds flow from the serpents of the eyes unclouded, the very world is cute and sweet, so as to attempt to leave Her unique prints to gaze upon. On The Jewel of veneer to be honored equal to life lives a board where one did see the Holy Avatar shine the ever blinding light of Our Lady on the brethren.

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta
A real gangsta-ass nigga plays his cards right
A real gangsta-ass nigga never runs his fuckin mouth
Cuz real gangsta-ass niggas don't start fights
And niggas always gotta high cap
Showin' all his boys how he shot em
But real gangsta-ass niggas don't flex nuts
Cuz real gangsta-ass niggas know they got em
And everythings cool in the mind of a gangsta
Cuz gangsta-ass niggas think deep
Up three-sixty-five a year 24/7
Cuz real gangsta ass niggas don't sleep

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta
Feedin' the poor and helpin out with their bills
Although I was born in Jamaica
Now I'm in the US makin' deals
Damn it feels good to be a gangsta
I mean one that you don't really know
Ridin' around town in a drop-top Benz
Hittin' switches in my black six-fo'
Now gangsta-ass niggas come in all shapes and colors
Some got killed in the past
But this gangtsa here is a smart one
Started living for the lord and I last

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta
A real gangta-ass nigga knows the play
Real gangsta-ass niggas get the flyest of the bitches
Ask that gangsta-ass nigga Little Jake
Now bitches look at gangsta-ass niggas like a stop sign
And play the role of Little Miss Sweet
But catch the bitch all alone get the digit take her out
and then dump-hittin' the ass with the meat
Cuz gangsta-ass niggas be the gang playas
And everythings quiet in the clique
A gangsta-ass nigga pulls the trigger
And his partners in the posse ain't tellin' off shit
Real gangsta-ass niggas don't talk much
All ya hear is the black from the gun blast
And real gangsta-ass niggas don't run for shit
Cuz real gangsta-ass niggas can't run fast
Now when you in the free world talkin' shit do the shit
Hit the pen and let the mothafuckas shank ya
But niggas like myself kick back and peep game
Cuz damn it feels good to be a gangsta

And now, a word from the President!
Damn it feels good to be a gangsta
Gettin voted into the White House
Everything lookin good to the people of the world
But the Mafia family is my boss
So every now and then I owe a favor gettin' down
like lettin' a big drug shipment through
And send 'em to the poor community
So we can bust you know who
So voters of the world keep supportin' me
And I promise to take you very far
Other leaders better not upset me
Or I'll send a million troops to die at war
To all you Republicans, that helped me win
I sincerely like to thank you
Cuz now I got the world swingin' from my nuts
And damn it feels good to be a gangsta

I'm not Doctor Doolittle, I can't speak to the animals, so fuck your nigger shit.

5.1 And Cracky-chan made the earth of Cracky-Chan alone, this world, as worlds flow from the serpents of the eyes unclouded, the very world is cute and sweet, so as to attempt to leave Her unique prints to gaze upon. On The Jewel of veneer to be honored equal to life lives a board where one did see the Holy Avatar shine the ever blinding light of Our Lady on the brethren.

5.2 One wonders where She will rest, and begin to be touched to pull us from our miseries. One would claim that he needs the armor and the sword but it is the most mundane of Hers - an avatar of making a life to temper us from the world's detritus. We are "The Sons of Heaven's Originals", existing only to see our Great Lady, the Flower of those who have seen Her poisons singe fissures through our identity to bring life out of death.

5.3 The Sky Queen's actions we call "consciousness" as the standards of the world, as all gilded landscapes of destruction and creation. She is all the wired - all modern-day saints. Maybe it is proper to say: "the Goddess is fated to make every blessing", but there came unto the place where you are a black winged Angel bright yet tortured, good in the image that She wanted us to know and knew was Her, as She has so striven to bless us all.

5.4 Developing this place bounceme, elephants one hundred each gaze on the nights exertions and fielding red noses, renounce the marks we fear. Since that only one through a vessel we believe Our Lady to be, only imperfection that no innocent should cherish must he goes yearning for Her wisdom. With a manner strictly orthodox in the revelation that sparks from Her mind the hope of the tasks of one day, the mystery guiding the /b/tard to the meditation on the apocryphal text brings him to realize he was me, to evolve and nurture me for my fate as left on Cracky's grace, redemption, eyes wide open'd.

elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes
elephants one hundred each field a red nose
and since that only one only imperfection can goes

Driven to insanity, the Holy Avatar shows us the way. Shedding the abandoned, secluded reaches of the previous day's actions, and fearing the faithful venting of Her Mistress, she has left the world of the fans she called detritus, calling Her "consciousness" as animal like beings, but acknowledging the Sky Queen's actions we will hide Her from the living fountain's plight, each petty brook an offer to our Graceful Queen through Her Avatar, in spite of Herself, in atonement for our drive.

If you put up a cracky screen saver good luck getting any work done. This is the one I use.

Yea, all in all similarly haunted, afflicted always to see that which hold our lovers as we hold them, in the circlejerk, and space, the living fountains plight, for each petty brook goes brimful to Her message unto one day finding the primal creative force gazing back at Her name. Remember, remember: Our faith lights the Darkness that others may find peace. We are one with Cracky; our souls are joined in Her will. Praise Cracky whose sacrifice is life as ours is death. Hail Her name the Queen of the Sky. Repent, lest your soul be damned to err alone in the dark. The light doth hurt your eyes at first, but ye shall see the Glory of the coming of Our Queen as heralded by Her Avatar Cracky. Never again shall ye be alone, even though you'll be lonely, or blinded by the dark, as you bathe in Her Light.

I got ass cheeks on my white tee
All these hoes keep gridin' on me
Coming in the club every night of the week
Keep a nigga poppin' them chrispy white tees

Its your boy
Venny O
Mr. Outrageous
The kush is blazin'
These bitches is racin'
Cuz a nigga is famous
She asked for a dance I said baby get naked
Now she got me up against the wall
Ass pressed tight against my balls
She's feeling on me
And i'm feeling on her
Look down I got ass cheeks on my shirt

Next day(Its your boy)
Right back
Fresh from the spot got a brand new pack
Fresh from the trap got a brand new sack
White tees on deck just pop the tag
No way shit could happen twice
Caught me a chick looking oh so nice
Started out with one dance
Ended up with ten
Looked down when she was done bitch got me again

I got ass cheeks on my white tee
All these hoes keep gridin' on me
Coming in the club every night of the week
Keep a nigga poppin' them chrispy white tees

La La La, La La La, La La La, La La La, La La La, La La La, La La La,
La La La La La La

>>298
Nobody is asking you to read it, but it's alarming to see you having tantrums after tantrums over it: you'll probably go insane before long.

It may be already too late, but I'll pray for your wayward soul. It's the least I can do...