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Easy operator | Registered: Jan 26, 2014 03:06
Screw me - I like it
First things first, I'm an art's man
Drawing yiff is my only passion
And I'm the fastest in the business
Want referrals, yo
My clientèle will bear you witness
I can help when your art skill stink
There is nothing in the world I can't prick
I do digi's, I do trad's, I do sheets
Note me, I'll come drawing porno with my bag of tricks
Where you go when your libido is rusted
Empty gallery making you disgusted
When your kinks're making minds busted
Just one pervert's always trusted
I'm so horny, you already know
I'll draw your 'sona with tentacles or cum overflowed
I'm so handy, I'll draw even scat and vore
To make your pants go about to explode
Time flies
Time crawls
Like an insect
Up and down the walls
The light pours out of me
Mated with the plush pink panther and ain't planning to change that in near future
I'm ready to devote my heart, mind, soul and body to the one who'll come to my place, stand beneath my window and perform "Total Eclipse Of The Heart" out loud. No sh*t guys, one song and I'm your slave!
Disclamer: pansexual, uni, polygamous, ill-bred, lowly responsible and pretty boring, yet unable to decline anyone's offer of friendship. Please, do not make us waste our time if you can't deal with things listed above. Comments left in languages nobody understands will be removed, stop turning a site into your ghetto ffs
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Comments Earned: 3622
Comments Made: 1685
Journals: 6
Comments Made: 1685
Journals: 6
Recent Journal
Look behind the sentient line
3 months ago
What's alive feels the heat of a flame
The fascist mask media blinds
What's perceived through the tunnel of pain
Through sleight of hand, no one reprimands
The research gone astray
Forgotten flesh, we're bottle-fed
On a need to know basis
Teaching lies, the little dog cries
The tears of the quiet ones
License to kill
The fascist mask media blinds
What's perceived through the tunnel of pain
Through sleight of hand, no one reprimands
The research gone astray
Forgotten flesh, we're bottle-fed
On a need to know basis
Teaching lies, the little dog cries
The tears of the quiet ones
License to kill