HEart. Attack. Fuck. Sometimes I feel like my arms are floating when I think about God’s grace, and then I remember that maybe I’m not feeling something beatuiful — maybe I’m feeling the full gravtiy of what it means to never truly be free. Heart attack. None of this makes sense.
The earth started to quake while the wind blew ferociously. Cracks in the ground caused steaming gas to fire through the unnatural ventilation, feeling like an attack on the senses. Otto was delirious from all sudden movement and couldn’t help but drop to the ground as if it was the only logical direction to move in.
Punch. Her attack is punch? Did she become a Warrior class? She didn’t like Warrior class- no wait, she must be in the beginner stat. So ‘Punch’ was the only thing she could do. That made sense. She could change class later.
why me… why me
I can only dream it’s not true
O God be with me!
panic attack,
depression,
distress
all in one moment
my life crushed with the news
i have cancer.
Under attack from all sides, she decided to renounce her position and take up a secluded life in the middle of the forest. Little did she know that there would soon be accusations of witchcraft leveled against her in addition to all the others.
This is the attack it came from nowhere. There were never prepared…they never thought it would happen to them. Even after they were told that they should always be ready for anything at any moment at anytime. They slipped up the last mistake they were ever make.
They’re coming from the rear, attacking at our flank
Wake up or lay down, fall suit, fall file, fall rank
Rotting softly to a dim light
In numbing pain we’ll fade away
How could they have stripped from us desires
To bask in the light of our day?
panic attack
depression, disappointment
distress
all in one moment
my life crushed with the news
i have cancer.
why me… why me
I can only dream it’s not true
O God be with me!
The attack of the yellow lanterns went well. They attacked on mass and at dawn to have the greatest cover. The faces on the lanterns had been camouflaged to protect the lantern identities.
The attack came with plenty of warning. It’s just that we were too busy arguing amongst ourselves about which course to take. Some wanted to counter attack. Some to run. No one wanted to die. And yet, here we were – thousands upon thousands of ghosts – who moan because we dithered.
It was hateful, yet in a way beautiful. The waves crash on the shore like it was personal, like there was no escape, which there never actually is. The moon was blazing. The world was quiet. And there was the sound, the constant crash. Brutally majestic it laps and it licks and it continues, an onslaught of nature, a force of deep blue fury. It recedes, then, slow and defeated. Solemn, leaving nothing but the damp, dark battleground.
The attack came quick. He hadn’t expected it. All he felt was the blows coming, coming, coming. The heat spread through his body as he felt on his skin. His brain felt heavy, and the last thing he saw before his vision went black was the fire of the fight before him.
The attack begins, she strikes swiftly with her rapier as he dodges and counters with the back of his sword, aiming for the head, knocking her out inmediatly. He didn’t want to hurt her like that but it was the only way to stop her
I knew it was pre-meditated but it remained unknown. Moods change and stay the same, all at once. Where would I have been able to find your truth? It was in the mood. Your mood was all I needed in order to know.
She lunged, hands out stretched, a strain in her voice. Again, again, again, again she hit him, sobbing. It wasn’t any use. It didn’t make her feel better. She collapsed in front of him and he did nothing to help her up. Or down. He didn’t help at all.
My mother likes to victimize herself. She talks about how my father attacks her with his words, how he manipulates her, and when I was little, I believed all that.
She tries to tell me, now, that I’m being a rebellious teenager. A typical, rebellious teenager. Perhaps I am. After all, she’s my mother who knows me better than I know myself.
But me? I think I’m finally growing up. Finally waking up and opening my eyes and seeing her for who she really is, and she hates that I’ve slipped out of her control.
Yesterday I was shopping some leeks to cook a vichyssoise when an old woman attacked me. She said that she needed those leeks for her soup and that she would get them one way or another. That’s the last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital.
We battle day and night, through the deserts, forests and plains.
Neither of us gave up. Sweat running down our faces, enough to flood our determined souls with exhaustion.
Followed by silence and then shortly a deep breath,
“Let’s end it here, attack me with your all”
Straight at her eyes, a fist swiped in the air. Larkhe jumped back and took in her surroundings. Another man lunged forward at her from behind, swearing at the other. And then Marufias jumped from the shadows and planted his teeth deeply in the second man’s calf.
attack it reminds me of wars and the vikings..blood, sacrifice..loss..but also bravery..it could also be a cowardly action..i do not like this word..it makes me uneasy and unsettled..on the other hand it feels a bit empowering..i am not sure to think anymore..you told me not to think, just write..
What’s the plan attack when you don’t have a weapon and your opponent does?
Well you kick him in the balls of course.
What if you’re fighting someone without testicles or false ones?
Yeah that’s a tough one… Bring a weapon next time mate.
Swans fly gracefully across the sky, black silhouettes across the pastel blue. They have a temper, sometimes. Elegant on the water, angry on the land as they waddle towards you, wings flapping, necks outstretched. Beaks stretched open in rage.
I never saw the attack coming. How could I? How could anyone? It was unexpected, unimaginable, unforeseeable. It was sudden and aggressive, and it took everything. Everything.
She fought fiercely. Each blow she dealt rang like a bell, piercing in the soft morning. The audience clamored for blood, and she was determined to not let it be hers.
everything she heard was perceived as an attack. there was nothing he could say to make her feel at ease. it was him and the world against her and she was not going down without a fight.
the fox attacked the rabbit just as it was rising its head from the hole in the ground. the attack was swift and vicious and its little fur got read with the blood pouring from its wounds. the bunny had kicked the pot.
Attack: He yelled when the man stepped from the door. Attack? Why the hell would we do that his daughter asked him. the4 man hiccuped, (Drunk Again) the man stepping out the door looked perplexed. he said me?
then fell in to a fit of uncontrolled sobbing.
The attack was totally unexpected. One moment, they were talking quietly and laughing about a long time mutually held joke, then he turned to her and said, “I hate it when you do this.”
She felt stung. He had stopped smiling and glared at her, before turning away.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” The conversation continued like this for a while, then he hit her. While they were in the emergency room to stitch the laceration over her eye, the doctor asked her. “How long has your husband had Alzheimers?”
Alarms rang through his head as he clawed at his ears, trying to make the terrible ringing go away.
There was ash on his skin and smoke in his lungs, itching, burning, making him gag and cough and sob all at once.
His voice was hoarse from his screams.
He could smell burning flesh.
And somewhere, in the distant background that was fading away every second, he heard a mechanical voice attempting to calm him down, to get him to open his eyes.
The words “panic attack” were drown out by sirens.
“I was there,” said the bard. “I was there when the attack took place. They used spears, and shields made from heavy wood. I saw one javelin pierce the heart of my father. I wish I could say he died instantly. He did not.”
The trembling in her voice gave away her emotion. The innkeeper sat her down and served her a glass of the strongest grog. I felt my body rock against the cushion of my stool, and my fingers drummed against the grooved hilt of my sword.
The attack of a new virus will be unstoppable. We should all learn that our lives would end we will rest in peace. Attacking someone or something is useless, it would never work,
HEart. Attack. Fuck. Sometimes I feel like my arms are floating when I think about God’s grace, and then I remember that maybe I’m not feeling something beatuiful — maybe I’m feeling the full gravtiy of what it means to never truly be free. Heart attack. None of this makes sense.
The earth started to quake while the wind blew ferociously. Cracks in the ground caused steaming gas to fire through the unnatural ventilation, feeling like an attack on the senses. Otto was delirious from all sudden movement and couldn’t help but drop to the ground as if it was the only logical direction to move in.
Punch. Her attack is punch? Did she become a Warrior class? She didn’t like Warrior class- no wait, she must be in the beginner stat. So ‘Punch’ was the only thing she could do. That made sense. She could change class later.
why me… why me
I can only dream it’s not true
O God be with me!
panic attack,
depression,
distress
all in one moment
my life crushed with the news
i have cancer.
Under attack from all sides, she decided to renounce her position and take up a secluded life in the middle of the forest. Little did she know that there would soon be accusations of witchcraft leveled against her in addition to all the others.
This is the attack it came from nowhere. There were never prepared…they never thought it would happen to them. Even after they were told that they should always be ready for anything at any moment at anytime. They slipped up the last mistake they were ever make.
They’re coming from the rear, attacking at our flank
Wake up or lay down, fall suit, fall file, fall rank
Rotting softly to a dim light
In numbing pain we’ll fade away
How could they have stripped from us desires
To bask in the light of our day?
panic attack
depression, disappointment
distress
all in one moment
my life crushed with the news
i have cancer.
why me… why me
I can only dream it’s not true
O God be with me!
The attack of the yellow lanterns went well. They attacked on mass and at dawn to have the greatest cover. The faces on the lanterns had been camouflaged to protect the lantern identities.
The attack came with plenty of warning. It’s just that we were too busy arguing amongst ourselves about which course to take. Some wanted to counter attack. Some to run. No one wanted to die. And yet, here we were – thousands upon thousands of ghosts – who moan because we dithered.
It was hateful, yet in a way beautiful. The waves crash on the shore like it was personal, like there was no escape, which there never actually is. The moon was blazing. The world was quiet. And there was the sound, the constant crash. Brutally majestic it laps and it licks and it continues, an onslaught of nature, a force of deep blue fury. It recedes, then, slow and defeated. Solemn, leaving nothing but the damp, dark battleground.
The attack came quick. He hadn’t expected it. All he felt was the blows coming, coming, coming. The heat spread through his body as he felt on his skin. His brain felt heavy, and the last thing he saw before his vision went black was the fire of the fight before him.
The attack begins, she strikes swiftly with her rapier as he dodges and counters with the back of his sword, aiming for the head, knocking her out inmediatly. He didn’t want to hurt her like that but it was the only way to stop her
I knew it was pre-meditated but it remained unknown. Moods change and stay the same, all at once. Where would I have been able to find your truth? It was in the mood. Your mood was all I needed in order to know.
i got attacked by a asshole at the park. he spilled weed on me, thats why i smell like weed.
Have you ever experienced an anxiety attack? They can be frightening. They can happen unexpectedly or as a result of a traumatic experience.
She lunged, hands out stretched, a strain in her voice. Again, again, again, again she hit him, sobbing. It wasn’t any use. It didn’t make her feel better. She collapsed in front of him and he did nothing to help her up. Or down. He didn’t help at all.
My mother likes to victimize herself. She talks about how my father attacks her with his words, how he manipulates her, and when I was little, I believed all that.
She tries to tell me, now, that I’m being a rebellious teenager. A typical, rebellious teenager. Perhaps I am. After all, she’s my mother who knows me better than I know myself.
But me? I think I’m finally growing up. Finally waking up and opening my eyes and seeing her for who she really is, and she hates that I’ve slipped out of her control.
Yesterday I was shopping some leeks to cook a vichyssoise when an old woman attacked me. She said that she needed those leeks for her soup and that she would get them one way or another. That’s the last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital.
We battle day and night, through the deserts, forests and plains.
Neither of us gave up. Sweat running down our faces, enough to flood our determined souls with exhaustion.
Followed by silence and then shortly a deep breath,
“Let’s end it here, attack me with your all”
Straight at her eyes, a fist swiped in the air. Larkhe jumped back and took in her surroundings. Another man lunged forward at her from behind, swearing at the other. And then Marufias jumped from the shadows and planted his teeth deeply in the second man’s calf.
attack it reminds me of wars and the vikings..blood, sacrifice..loss..but also bravery..it could also be a cowardly action..i do not like this word..it makes me uneasy and unsettled..on the other hand it feels a bit empowering..i am not sure to think anymore..you told me not to think, just write..
What’s the plan attack when you don’t have a weapon and your opponent does?
Well you kick him in the balls of course.
What if you’re fighting someone without testicles or false ones?
Yeah that’s a tough one… Bring a weapon next time mate.
Swans fly gracefully across the sky, black silhouettes across the pastel blue. They have a temper, sometimes. Elegant on the water, angry on the land as they waddle towards you, wings flapping, necks outstretched. Beaks stretched open in rage.
I never saw the attack coming. How could I? How could anyone? It was unexpected, unimaginable, unforeseeable. It was sudden and aggressive, and it took everything. Everything.
There was an attack. It was the Nazis. We all ran to the basement to hide. I was scared. What will happen if they find us?
She fought fiercely. Each blow she dealt rang like a bell, piercing in the soft morning. The audience clamored for blood, and she was determined to not let it be hers.
It was an attack. They came from above they came from below. They were animals and I just a tiny worm.
everything she heard was perceived as an attack. there was nothing he could say to make her feel at ease. it was him and the world against her and she was not going down without a fight.
the fox attacked the rabbit just as it was rising its head from the hole in the ground. the attack was swift and vicious and its little fur got read with the blood pouring from its wounds. the bunny had kicked the pot.
Attack: He yelled when the man stepped from the door. Attack? Why the hell would we do that his daughter asked him. the4 man hiccuped, (Drunk Again) the man stepping out the door looked perplexed. he said me?
then fell in to a fit of uncontrolled sobbing.
The attack was totally unexpected. One moment, they were talking quietly and laughing about a long time mutually held joke, then he turned to her and said, “I hate it when you do this.”
She felt stung. He had stopped smiling and glared at her, before turning away.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” The conversation continued like this for a while, then he hit her. While they were in the emergency room to stitch the laceration over her eye, the doctor asked her. “How long has your husband had Alzheimers?”
There was fire everywhere.
Alarms rang through his head as he clawed at his ears, trying to make the terrible ringing go away.
There was ash on his skin and smoke in his lungs, itching, burning, making him gag and cough and sob all at once.
His voice was hoarse from his screams.
He could smell burning flesh.
And somewhere, in the distant background that was fading away every second, he heard a mechanical voice attempting to calm him down, to get him to open his eyes.
The words “panic attack” were drown out by sirens.
“I was there,” said the bard. “I was there when the attack took place. They used spears, and shields made from heavy wood. I saw one javelin pierce the heart of my father. I wish I could say he died instantly. He did not.”
The trembling in her voice gave away her emotion. The innkeeper sat her down and served her a glass of the strongest grog. I felt my body rock against the cushion of my stool, and my fingers drummed against the grooved hilt of my sword.
The attack of a new virus will be unstoppable. We should all learn that our lives would end we will rest in peace. Attacking someone or something is useless, it would never work,