Every time we talk you are so defiant and angry. I do not know how to handle you anymore. Everybody and everything is always trying to put you down or people trying to punish you, for what I do not know.
The Clash, London Calling…The clash of the titans…The clash of the Males and Females since the beginning of time – the apple argument, a whodunit: the serpent/the devil or the humans or one or more gods from lore since the beginning of time…The clash of the dinosaurs with climate, like we are clashing now…the dinosaurs lost the battle, will we also become another extinction on Earth’s timeline since the beginning of…
it was a personality clash. but i wanted to keep tutoring with her because there was something that drew me to her. we had arguments frequently but somehow, i was kinda addicted tot he drama. it felt like if the drama wasn’t in my life, if she wasn’t in it, then what was left? Mundanity? Boredom? Or could it be peace?
The colors are all wrong. They clash against one another. A bright green does not bode well with such a dull orange. She feels sick to her stomach, watching the colors so intently she swears that they’re moving as she watches. She knows they cannot move as the man donning them is no longer moving, his body has not moved since she’s been tossed into this room.
When I was younger, I used to give away my love like it was a renewable resource. And so I’d give out bits and pieces of my heart, hands outstretched with twitching tissue.
Now, I am still young, and my heart is a shell of what it used to be, slivers of afterthoughts and clotted blood.
And without that energy, blood no longer moving under my skin, I find all of myself frozen now, petrified not by any outside force, but by the sheer stillness in my veins.
The glass hit the floor as the door closed. I stayed there, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do. Should I go after her ? Should I leave her be? Was there anything in my power to makes things right? Did I even want to?
Two sides clashed against one another, with innocents caught between. War is never pretty, but when that war focuses around advanced technologies and genetically altered soldiers, it becomes even more atrocious.
Esther Windstorm entered the room in the most hideous dress that he had ever seen in his eighteen years of life, and he laughed, raising an eyebrow at her. “Esther, darling, you know I love you,” he drawled, “but you look absolutely fucking hideous.”
“Don’t be rude,” she snapped, running a hand through her wild red curls. “You know I have a thing for clashing colors.”
A sea of blue and white scales, scraping along the floor of the bay. Waves whose contents were water and flowers and sometimes incinerated relatives. Now, whose contents are each other. Who are formless and yet cling to form, until they grind into dust. Another load dumped from some shore. And the force moves about, and smashes into the opposite end, but not with a soft ‘r’, like some accident. With an ‘l’, with intention, and damn the consequences.
clash sounds like the word cash. my dad thought i said cash. in school last year we learned about the clash of clans. i think thats a movie actually. but anyways i think clash means to go to war or something like that
The clash of symbols made the dragon jump awake with a start. It let out an angry roar as it felt a red hot iron poker touch his skin. The men started shouting and the dragon made a sound of annoyance. The dragon thought how dumb these people were, he could crush them with one foot if he was free.
The clash of trash cans being smashed against the wall awoke him at 3 AM. Groggily, Jeffrey got to his feet and looked out the window. There was nothing visible in the alley, and he wondered if he’d imagined the sound. Normally he’d say it was the neighbor kid, but not at this hour.
The clash of titans turned out to be little more than a quarrel of pygmies, all of the mightiest of gods turning out to be something but a few broken shadows bickering for a small scrap of territory within the Mediterranean. In the end, we watched sheepishly as the deities we idolized shrunk to the heights of children, arguing and prodding each other’s chests as their true natures were unveiled like a body stripped of its bejeweled flesh.
Clash.
Clash.
Clash.
The sound echoed in my brain, long after I first heard it.
It pulsed through my skull, piercing into my thoughts constantly, day and night.
The sound of the car crashing into my father’s, killing all of my family except me.
Killing the ones who didn’t deserve it.
But killing me on the inside.
Oh my!
I’m a clash. In itself. Some would say I’m a fool.
But I’m full of it.
Full of what?
Of nothing…
Clash of ideas needn’t escalate to clash of physical strength.
Every time we talk you are so defiant and angry. I do not know how to handle you anymore. Everybody and everything is always trying to put you down or people trying to punish you, for what I do not know.
The Clash, London Calling…The clash of the titans…The clash of the Males and Females since the beginning of time – the apple argument, a whodunit: the serpent/the devil or the humans or one or more gods from lore since the beginning of time…The clash of the dinosaurs with climate, like we are clashing now…the dinosaurs lost the battle, will we also become another extinction on Earth’s timeline since the beginning of…
Clash of clan
Clash of the titans
Clashiyohohoho
Clash. Not Good. Get your things right.
Sunday will clash if I were not faithful to my lord, that is to be calm and joyful and also as good as one can simply do.
This makes me think of the band Clash. Its a noise. Pans clashing together. Personalities clashing. It is onomatopoeic i think
it was a personality clash. but i wanted to keep tutoring with her because there was something that drew me to her. we had arguments frequently but somehow, i was kinda addicted tot he drama. it felt like if the drama wasn’t in my life, if she wasn’t in it, then what was left? Mundanity? Boredom? Or could it be peace?
CLANG
LOUD
ANNOYING
SYNCHRONIZED
HORRIBLE
The colors are all wrong. They clash against one another. A bright green does not bode well with such a dull orange. She feels sick to her stomach, watching the colors so intently she swears that they’re moving as she watches. She knows they cannot move as the man donning them is no longer moving, his body has not moved since she’s been tossed into this room.
When I was younger, I used to give away my love like it was a renewable resource. And so I’d give out bits and pieces of my heart, hands outstretched with twitching tissue.
Now, I am still young, and my heart is a shell of what it used to be, slivers of afterthoughts and clotted blood.
And without that energy, blood no longer moving under my skin, I find all of myself frozen now, petrified not by any outside force, but by the sheer stillness in my veins.
1clash = coincide layers at sum huh
The glass hit the floor as the door closed. I stayed there, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do. Should I go after her ? Should I leave her be? Was there anything in my power to makes things right? Did I even want to?
Two sides clashed against one another, with innocents caught between. War is never pretty, but when that war focuses around advanced technologies and genetically altered soldiers, it becomes even more atrocious.
Esther Windstorm entered the room in the most hideous dress that he had ever seen in his eighteen years of life, and he laughed, raising an eyebrow at her. “Esther, darling, you know I love you,” he drawled, “but you look absolutely fucking hideous.”
“Don’t be rude,” she snapped, running a hand through her wild red curls. “You know I have a thing for clashing colors.”
The sound of steel against steel. One of the many things that personify the pure hate of generations with that forever ringing CLANG.
A sea of blue and white scales, scraping along the floor of the bay. Waves whose contents were water and flowers and sometimes incinerated relatives. Now, whose contents are each other. Who are formless and yet cling to form, until they grind into dust. Another load dumped from some shore. And the force moves about, and smashes into the opposite end, but not with a soft ‘r’, like some accident. With an ‘l’, with intention, and damn the consequences.
clash sounds like the word cash. my dad thought i said cash. in school last year we learned about the clash of clans. i think thats a movie actually. but anyways i think clash means to go to war or something like that
No. I don’t understand. I don’t even know how to think about what you are saying. Your words do not make sense to me.
again, my head is aching, it is a clash against again and revolves around the making of a sentence that reduces the occasion to which I came.
The clash of symbols made the dragon jump awake with a start. It let out an angry roar as it felt a red hot iron poker touch his skin. The men started shouting and the dragon made a sound of annoyance. The dragon thought how dumb these people were, he could crush them with one foot if he was free.
The clash of trash cans being smashed against the wall awoke him at 3 AM. Groggily, Jeffrey got to his feet and looked out the window. There was nothing visible in the alley, and he wondered if he’d imagined the sound. Normally he’d say it was the neighbor kid, but not at this hour.
The clash of titans turned out to be little more than a quarrel of pygmies, all of the mightiest of gods turning out to be something but a few broken shadows bickering for a small scrap of territory within the Mediterranean. In the end, we watched sheepishly as the deities we idolized shrunk to the heights of children, arguing and prodding each other’s chests as their true natures were unveiled like a body stripped of its bejeweled flesh.
Clash.
Clash.
Clash.
The sound echoed in my brain, long after I first heard it.
It pulsed through my skull, piercing into my thoughts constantly, day and night.
The sound of the car crashing into my father’s, killing all of my family except me.
Killing the ones who didn’t deserve it.
But killing me on the inside.