When someone twists your nipples to the seventh plain of Hell. You can only tremble as the sky opens up and judges your very being. Your mouth opens in a gaping, abyss of horror, and you sing the song of demons. Pain fuels your lungs, terrible, twisting pain plays your vocal cords. You are a puppet to the twisters hands, mush, and putty to his fingers. Death is upon you, may god have mercy on your soul. The chorus of a thousand dying angels flow from your tongue.
'Brah, i was watching house of cards when chad made me nipplechorus.' 'Fucking Chad.'
'I swear, the next person that makes me nipplechorus is paying for the priest, and the hospital bill.'
'I swear, the next person that makes me nipplechorus is paying for the priest, and the hospital bill.'
by ThomasUnderClouds July 18, 2014