The 1970s. I was a kid. I waited on the school bus. Someone said a streaker had run past the government buildings in Omaha. We were told to wait. We tried to get to the windows, to peer over each others’ shoulders to see if we could see where the streaker went, if it was a woman or a man, what their butt looked like, and what was happening next.
go! he streaked off. so did I. who is he, who can go off like a streak? well, he is me, but i am not him, get it? we can streak, but I cannot. he can’t streak, but we can. i like talking in a way that doesnt make sense.
It was the blond streak in his otherwise dark brown hair that made Jane look twice. He was an engineer, she knew, but other than some vague twitterings over the punch bowl that she had over heard – a gossiping clutch of bird-like women – she really didn’t know much about him. But that blond streak made her want to reach out and touch his hair.
Rabbits. Lost of lost rabbits. I watched them streak across the lawn , just about fell over the ootoman running to the window because .. there were so many rabbits! huge jumping in every direction! rabbits.
I never though I’d break her winning streak; I never thought I’d snatch victory from her beautifully chiseled jaw. She stood next to me, drawing in air as if she were drowning in it, red-faced and red-eyed and oh, so close to screaming. I knew the gold medal around my neck would be heavy – it always would be. But now, as I witnessed the mental breakdown of the defending champion, I wondered just how much it had been really worth.
A long, slimy trail followed his exit. He got up, having slid about two meters from the threshold, and dusted himself off. He thumbed his nose back toward the neon sign above the door, then turned and walked away.
The streak of learning never stops,
the screeches of yearning never haults,
we just happen to be human beings,
always on a feign,
for more,
until we’re crushed
like a smore under high atmospheric pressure;
I don’t get stressed out any more because I am my own mood’s lever;
a whiff of freshness, a gasp of a hellish,
Angel hot dog on a bun, with extra relish,
will relish,
any Angeleno. Despite their mind’s level,
Without education, a wingless bird,
flapping into a misty destiny,
where in the end, we know,
that we will ultimately resent thee.
Most of my streaks aren’t very long. I’m too impatient, too quickly distracted. But I’m trying my best to keep going, to keep writing although it’s not easy, considering the fact that I have a life.
The 1970s. I was a kid. I waited on the school bus. Someone said a streaker had run past the government buildings in Omaha. We were told to wait. We tried to get to the windows, to peer over each others’ shoulders to see if we could see where the streaker went, if it was a woman or a man, what their butt looked like, and what was happening next.
It´s a good companhy
I want to fly arround the world
for free
snap chat streaks are everything to meeeeee. Snapchat is my everything. Streaks are when you snapchat someone everyday.
go! he streaked off. so did I. who is he, who can go off like a streak? well, he is me, but i am not him, get it? we can streak, but I cannot. he can’t streak, but we can. i like talking in a way that doesnt make sense.
She felt her makeup begin to run under her sheet of sweat. When she wiped her face, big streaks of it came off on her hand. She needed to get out.
Long and curvy. It can only get longer and curvier. Once its made it will never go away.
I have a turtle, he is mutated. When he walks by he leaves a big streak of poop all across the ground. No one likes to clean that streak up.
It was the blond streak in his otherwise dark brown hair that made Jane look twice. He was an engineer, she knew, but other than some vague twitterings over the punch bowl that she had over heard – a gossiping clutch of bird-like women – she really didn’t know much about him. But that blond streak made her want to reach out and touch his hair.
he had this very very nasty streak in him. It meant that one could never be honest in fear of him blowing up over literally nothing
Healing a streak of lightening as a flash of inspiration is the urge to write a piece on a feeling of what it is in timeless exploration.
Rabbits. Lost of lost rabbits. I watched them streak across the lawn , just about fell over the ootoman running to the window because .. there were so many rabbits! huge jumping in every direction! rabbits.
Something you can’t erase when you have made it. It will be there for a life time until it grows. Once you make it, it can only get bigger.
The Streak is hard, The Streak is long
The Streak is what I call my dong
Those planes that you say in the sky on a beautiful sunny day, leave a long streak, highlighting where the came from.
As tears of joy streak down your face,
laughter bubbles from inside the deepest
spaces of your soul – I do not believe
anyone
has ever seen you this happy,
and I’m so glad I could be here
to witness it the way you are always
around
to feel the bed shake with
my squeal-like giggles, and
watch my eyes sparkle brighter
every time.
I never though I’d break her winning streak; I never thought I’d snatch victory from her beautifully chiseled jaw. She stood next to me, drawing in air as if she were drowning in it, red-faced and red-eyed and oh, so close to screaming. I knew the gold medal around my neck would be heavy – it always would be. But now, as I witnessed the mental breakdown of the defending champion, I wondered just how much it had been really worth.
“Hey guys look at the streak in my hair!” Annabelle said while playing with her hair “why is that streak important” Lacy said making
A long, slimy trail followed his exit. He got up, having slid about two meters from the threshold, and dusted himself off. He thumbed his nose back toward the neon sign above the door, then turned and walked away.
The streak of learning never stops,
the screeches of yearning never haults,
we just happen to be human beings,
always on a feign,
for more,
until we’re crushed
like a smore under high atmospheric pressure;
I don’t get stressed out any more because I am my own mood’s lever;
a whiff of freshness, a gasp of a hellish,
Angel hot dog on a bun, with extra relish,
will relish,
any Angeleno. Despite their mind’s level,
Without education, a wingless bird,
flapping into a misty destiny,
where in the end, we know,
that we will ultimately resent thee.
hi
Most of my streaks aren’t very long. I’m too impatient, too quickly distracted. But I’m trying my best to keep going, to keep writing although it’s not easy, considering the fact that I have a life.