blotches of color on a cow. on the wall, n muy face. VNlotches are like unintntional deposits of color on a surface,. Very abstreact art. ery Jackson Pollack? Very Picasso? I don’t think I like blotches. Unless they are on a puppy.
CaReese Rials
ehm blotches? What the heck!? It sounds… negatively..perhaps an injury of some kind?
Hmmm….Blotches blotches why are thy blotches?
Nightowl
black circle in psychology class that tell feelings mis happenings during eating angry pieces of color the ending to a bad day yep.
Sarah
From far away it looked like blotches of ink streaming down her legs. The closer I came to her I saw that the color was crimson, and the life in her eyes was gone.
The red blotches spread across her face as the anger began to build up inside of her chest. Her heart was pounding out the rhythm, like the slave drivers on ancient viking ships. Her hands clenched beside her torso so hard the knuckles turned white and you could see it was all she could do not to jump across the table and smack some sense into the white trash girl sitting across from her.
Emily
splotches? blotches. splotches of paint. blotches on your face. blotting it off, maybe blotting some on. blotches, those bitches. how can you stand it? on or off. hard to see. i can’t tell.
heather
the blotches on the wall were sickening. yellow and moldy, they disgusted me. i hated them so much, but they would never leave me alone. or perhaps the other way around, it was i who could never leave them alone; i could never leave this room, and they were the only difference to the blank white of the wall to taunt me with memories of the world i used to live in.
Dani
I always come out with big blotches on my neck when I’m drinking.
There were blotches left on the carpet after she had spilt the wine.
The sky was full with blotches even though they were clouds.
Hannah Scott
the blotches on the wall were sickening, they were yellowing and moldy, and it was disgusting. i hated them so much, but they wouldn’t leave me alone, they would never leave me alone. or possibly the other way around, i could never leave them. i could never leave this room, and they were the only things on the blank white canvas that was the wall, taunting me.
Mandi
This is just a blotch. Everyone gets them. There’s no reason that I should go off the deep end over this. It’s certainly not the first, won’t be the last either.
This table is so cold. I wish she’d just get this over with.
“Sorry, for the delay, sir. Now, how many sexual partners have you had in the last year?”
Blotches of red ink stained the rug. Now that it was drying it looked like blood. What was she going to do? The addresses—crimson on ivory envelopes looked lovely in crisp calligraphy, but the rug… How did she manage to knock the bottle over? Why had she been working on the floor?
Andie
Blotches, on her face. Blotches, that could easily be considered disgusting. But to me, they were beautiful. Imperfection was somehow just so aesthetically attractive. I hated that she saw herself as being ugly because of it, when in fact she wasn’t ugly at all. Not to me, at least.
Blotches, on her face. Blotches, that could easily be considered disgusting. But to me, they were beautiful. Imperfection was somehow just so aesthetically attractive. I hated that she saw herself as being ugly because of it, when in fact she wasn’t ugly at all. Not to me, at least.
Ben N
The snow was blowing in her face, but as she looked across the land she could see dark blotches, that once focused upon, she realized were horses, wild horses.
Mary Lou Wynegar
The city was an insomniac, its streets roaring in razorbright hysteria.
A lone shadow turned his tricolor eyes to the miasmatic sky, burned an infectious orange from years of abuse. I haven’t seen the moon in years, he thought disjointedly, his lungs heavy with smog.
Thick lines of neon blood rolled down from the man’s hairline, leaving unearthly blotches that glowed against his chest. He shuddered slightly, the unforgiving masses paying no heed, as a roll of static crashed beneath his collarbone.
I’m not crazy. They ask me what I see. I see blotches. I don’t see anything that makes me feel crazy. You’re the crazy ones. I’m in the clear. You and you’re blotches can get the hell out of here. Not impressed. Wait, I see my reflection.
Corey
Blotches. Imperfections. Mars. These are things that pester us constantly. If our shirt has a stain on it, visible probably only to us, we still refuse to wear it. Same with life really. I don’t care for minor details in my life that only I know about. I still want a new one.
Mike
boltches of sun hitting my face as he leans towards me. a kiss on the neck and then hes gone like yesterday’s drain water. running downt he underground tunnels of the city. spewing through the creavaces and lining the streets to greet me as i walk past. he leans towards me. the blotches of his skin sticking to mine as he leans towards me. says: kiss me blotchy.
theresa
Blotches? What kind of word is that? The kind of word I think it is is something about senses. It reminds me of something I could be smelling, hearing or seeing, etc.
Pepper
I look in the mirror, focus, and see blotches. Blotches of red, uneven skin. It’s bad enough that I’m a cyclical insomniac, but to have stayed up late crying? It started with a book, but I know we never really cry about books. It’s about us. Our lives. How they don’t measure up.
Ironic Mom
they are crazy and come together like it can be cuts…ummm or little blobs that are red or brown on your skin…it can be blotches of poizen ivy or something else that’s not realated to a medical problem. This is a hard word to describe
jessica
stupid, so stupid,god help………..
wish i could know.
sandra
He coughed miserably and tried to burrow into the blanket further. His boyfriend chuckled as he sat beside him, taking in the blotches of feverish red skin on the fair face half-hidden by the comforter. The sick man tried to glare but it was failed due to the state of him.
blotches are very mean types of animal creaters that make fun of alot of little trolls they are not very ice but we are trying to get a cure for these very mean and nasty scary animals and if you have seen one of these creatures plz report it to the officals and we will save the world these monsters will take controll of your mind and hipnotize you to do what ever they say so stay inside and hide your kids hide your wife and hide your husband bc we r trying to get you safe
tyler
The blotches on the paper stood out starkly against the blank white page. She reached out with a finger and touched one of them gently, mind travelling back to what had happened so many years ago.
Bramblepath
She had blotches all over her face, not minor ones, but big, huge, deep purple ones that spread from ear to ear.
“Oh no!” she wept. “How will I face my audience now?”
Suddenly, her doorbell rang.
Ding dong!
A thin reedy voice piped up in the keyhole.
“Avon lady is here…”.
blotches covered the skin as she cried her eyes onto the carpet pouring her self out drop by drop onto the floor until all that was left was a puddle seeping down into the earth, losing herself every step of the way until all was lost
seekellygo
blotches are all over arama he is filled with them they coexist on him, they have wars and make up and then eat each other. They are a virus and will destroy arama if he is not careful
asdfads dfas
Boob is where Sarah’s blotches are located in a super condensed matter form rivalling that of the spacial density of a black hole.
Blotches appear on paper everywhere. They stain our paper, they make our paper look dirty and ugly. And they are also a sign of mistake and human fallibility. After all, nobody blotches their paper on purpose right? Fortunately, there are always ways to clean up blotches. And that’s what we should focus on.
Kirk D'Souza
spots are nice and colorful. playful little circles. a blotch of blood on a handkerchief is not sanitary. what an ugly word, almost vulgar, isn`t it?
Anca S. Potter
ao. we don’t even know what this word means…. is it like big brueses. ehm.. time is running away from us. so my messange to you all is to just be happy and smile ALOT!!!!!OKEI?
sigbjørg
marks that redden the skin some might feel shy as a result, self-concious even. rhymes with splotches bright coloured marks of paint. that’s bloctched me. blotched my landscape.
soo… like i don’t even know what this word means.. so … im gonna just draw a picture of me riding an alephant. okei….. i just realized that i can’t draw a picture on one word.com. so… yes. like whatever. hahaha-… so funny. im am so happy that this task has come to an end. goodbye.
blotches of color on a cow. on the wall, n muy face. VNlotches are like unintntional deposits of color on a surface,. Very abstreact art. ery Jackson Pollack? Very Picasso? I don’t think I like blotches. Unless they are on a puppy.
ehm blotches? What the heck!? It sounds… negatively..perhaps an injury of some kind?
Hmmm….Blotches blotches why are thy blotches?
black circle in psychology class that tell feelings mis happenings during eating angry pieces of color the ending to a bad day yep.
From far away it looked like blotches of ink streaming down her legs. The closer I came to her I saw that the color was crimson, and the life in her eyes was gone.
Splotch.
Biotch.
I knew you really didn’t love that sweater anyways.
And if you did, I don’t care.
The red blotches spread across her face as the anger began to build up inside of her chest. Her heart was pounding out the rhythm, like the slave drivers on ancient viking ships. Her hands clenched beside her torso so hard the knuckles turned white and you could see it was all she could do not to jump across the table and smack some sense into the white trash girl sitting across from her.
splotches? blotches. splotches of paint. blotches on your face. blotting it off, maybe blotting some on. blotches, those bitches. how can you stand it? on or off. hard to see. i can’t tell.
the blotches on the wall were sickening. yellow and moldy, they disgusted me. i hated them so much, but they would never leave me alone. or perhaps the other way around, it was i who could never leave them alone; i could never leave this room, and they were the only difference to the blank white of the wall to taunt me with memories of the world i used to live in.
I always come out with big blotches on my neck when I’m drinking.
There were blotches left on the carpet after she had spilt the wine.
The sky was full with blotches even though they were clouds.
the blotches on the wall were sickening, they were yellowing and moldy, and it was disgusting. i hated them so much, but they wouldn’t leave me alone, they would never leave me alone. or possibly the other way around, i could never leave them. i could never leave this room, and they were the only things on the blank white canvas that was the wall, taunting me.
This is just a blotch. Everyone gets them. There’s no reason that I should go off the deep end over this. It’s certainly not the first, won’t be the last either.
This table is so cold. I wish she’d just get this over with.
“Sorry, for the delay, sir. Now, how many sexual partners have you had in the last year?”
Blotches of red ink stained the rug. Now that it was drying it looked like blood. What was she going to do? The addresses—crimson on ivory envelopes looked lovely in crisp calligraphy, but the rug… How did she manage to knock the bottle over? Why had she been working on the floor?
Blotches, on her face. Blotches, that could easily be considered disgusting. But to me, they were beautiful. Imperfection was somehow just so aesthetically attractive. I hated that she saw herself as being ugly because of it, when in fact she wasn’t ugly at all. Not to me, at least.
Blotches, on her face. Blotches, that could easily be considered disgusting. But to me, they were beautiful. Imperfection was somehow just so aesthetically attractive. I hated that she saw herself as being ugly because of it, when in fact she wasn’t ugly at all. Not to me, at least.
The snow was blowing in her face, but as she looked across the land she could see dark blotches, that once focused upon, she realized were horses, wild horses.
The city was an insomniac, its streets roaring in razorbright hysteria.
A lone shadow turned his tricolor eyes to the miasmatic sky, burned an infectious orange from years of abuse. I haven’t seen the moon in years, he thought disjointedly, his lungs heavy with smog.
Thick lines of neon blood rolled down from the man’s hairline, leaving unearthly blotches that glowed against his chest. He shuddered slightly, the unforgiving masses paying no heed, as a roll of static crashed beneath his collarbone.
I’m not crazy. They ask me what I see. I see blotches. I don’t see anything that makes me feel crazy. You’re the crazy ones. I’m in the clear. You and you’re blotches can get the hell out of here. Not impressed. Wait, I see my reflection.
Blotches. Imperfections. Mars. These are things that pester us constantly. If our shirt has a stain on it, visible probably only to us, we still refuse to wear it. Same with life really. I don’t care for minor details in my life that only I know about. I still want a new one.
boltches of sun hitting my face as he leans towards me. a kiss on the neck and then hes gone like yesterday’s drain water. running downt he underground tunnels of the city. spewing through the creavaces and lining the streets to greet me as i walk past. he leans towards me. the blotches of his skin sticking to mine as he leans towards me. says: kiss me blotchy.
Blotches? What kind of word is that? The kind of word I think it is is something about senses. It reminds me of something I could be smelling, hearing or seeing, etc.
I look in the mirror, focus, and see blotches. Blotches of red, uneven skin. It’s bad enough that I’m a cyclical insomniac, but to have stayed up late crying? It started with a book, but I know we never really cry about books. It’s about us. Our lives. How they don’t measure up.
they are crazy and come together like it can be cuts…ummm or little blobs that are red or brown on your skin…it can be blotches of poizen ivy or something else that’s not realated to a medical problem. This is a hard word to describe
stupid, so stupid,god help………..
wish i could know.
He coughed miserably and tried to burrow into the blanket further. His boyfriend chuckled as he sat beside him, taking in the blotches of feverish red skin on the fair face half-hidden by the comforter. The sick man tried to glare but it was failed due to the state of him.
Drinking scotches,
Mac, sour, Collins.
Try to walk, but more
Hop scotching
Face all ruddy and policemen watching.
Memory muddy and girlfriend tutting.
Anchorman copy,
Scotchy! Scotchy!
Not so clever,
Too many blotches.
Drinking scotches,
Mac, sour, Collins.
Try to walk, but more
Hop scotching
Face all ruddy and policemen watching.
Memory muddy and girlfriend tutting
Anchorman copy,
Scotchy! Scotchy!
Not so clever,
Too many blotches.
Bl
Drinking scotches,
Mac, sour, Collins.
Try to walk, but more
Hop scotching
Face all ruddy and policemen watching.
Memory muddy and girlfriend tutting
Too many scotches,
All those blothes.
Bl
blotches are very mean types of animal creaters that make fun of alot of little trolls they are not very ice but we are trying to get a cure for these very mean and nasty scary animals and if you have seen one of these creatures plz report it to the officals and we will save the world these monsters will take controll of your mind and hipnotize you to do what ever they say so stay inside and hide your kids hide your wife and hide your husband bc we r trying to get you safe
The blotches on the paper stood out starkly against the blank white page. She reached out with a finger and touched one of them gently, mind travelling back to what had happened so many years ago.
She had blotches all over her face, not minor ones, but big, huge, deep purple ones that spread from ear to ear.
“Oh no!” she wept. “How will I face my audience now?”
Suddenly, her doorbell rang.
Ding dong!
A thin reedy voice piped up in the keyhole.
“Avon lady is here…”.
blotches covered the skin as she cried her eyes onto the carpet pouring her self out drop by drop onto the floor until all that was left was a puddle seeping down into the earth, losing herself every step of the way until all was lost
blotches are all over arama he is filled with them they coexist on him, they have wars and make up and then eat each other. They are a virus and will destroy arama if he is not careful
Boob is where Sarah’s blotches are located in a super condensed matter form rivalling that of the spacial density of a black hole.
Blotches ain’t shit but holes and zits.
Blotches appear on paper everywhere. They stain our paper, they make our paper look dirty and ugly. And they are also a sign of mistake and human fallibility. After all, nobody blotches their paper on purpose right? Fortunately, there are always ways to clean up blotches. And that’s what we should focus on.
spots are nice and colorful. playful little circles. a blotch of blood on a handkerchief is not sanitary. what an ugly word, almost vulgar, isn`t it?
ao. we don’t even know what this word means…. is it like big brueses. ehm.. time is running away from us. so my messange to you all is to just be happy and smile ALOT!!!!!OKEI?
marks that redden the skin some might feel shy as a result, self-concious even. rhymes with splotches bright coloured marks of paint. that’s bloctched me. blotched my landscape.
i’m prettier that ever.lol!.. hahaha
soo… like i don’t even know what this word means.. so … im gonna just draw a picture of me riding an alephant. okei….. i just realized that i can’t draw a picture on one word.com. so… yes. like whatever. hahaha-… so funny. im am so happy that this task has come to an end. goodbye.