In morning, a slow burn, toes tangled in sheets, willing captives. From sideways eyes, nothing good will come from the day’s expectations. Through the hours it turns from burn to ice, sudden and sharp, fingers tapping on a darkened screen, darting eyes full of darts. A look out the window turned stare, impatient leg shaking desk. Midnight, dark hallway, full bladder, shaking fingers, sleepless trance tracing lights on the ceiling;
When, when, when?
Not sure I dread anything. I am sort of guys who always looks for positive. Who always hopes that there will be light at end of tunnel. There will be sun out soon on rainy day.
Fear, pulsing through me. I am afraid. Death comes from afar and we wait, but for some it approaches now. Immediate. In the fire below us. I see it as it wades into my consciousness. I am but a dreadful piece of shit. Life begins and bores me too. I shall be the one. To give the heart to me.
broke back weeping the seeds are deceiving
never quite do what you’d told
the dread is deadening;
the smoke that never billows
and the love is finite
the light is too bright
the starry night is obscene
the day turns into something serene.
I dread to be dreaded. I hope my presence in any circumstance or room is beneficial and positive. I don’t want a life where there is a time to dread something. I want to look for the light at the end of the tunnel, the sun to come out on a rainy day, and most importantly my self talk doesn’t need to involve dread.
fingers grip the tea cup and tight white knots form where knuckles should be, and the porcelain burns hot against the skin, and you’ve forgotten to wash your hair again. eyes dart from window to the door, from roof to the floor, here and there while the screeching sounds of cop sirens and car horns fill the room. the window is open — why have you forgotten to close the window? why have you forgotten to lock the door? insidiousness sings behind the skull. open mouth is dry and the heart is fearing.
OK DREAD, HERE IN ITALY IS A HAIRSTYLE AND IT REMINDES ME OF A GUY That liked mE A YEaR AGO. i haven’T THOUGHT ABOUt you IN A YEAR. I Hope he’s ok. HE HAD SOME PROBLEMS with drugs. ONLy god knows what he’s doing now
My heart filled with dread as I received the news. He was dead? How could that be? Just hours ago we were wrapped in sweet embrace. He had told me he loved me for the first time, and now he was gone. How am I supposed to move on from this? I thought I had found my soulmate.
i always dread going to things like school. Now i just do homework at home because i do home schooling. It is pretty fun because you get to work at your own pace.
She felt that familiar knot in her stomach. She didn’t try to push it away this time. She let it tangle her insides into an intelligible rats nest, no way to disengage the pieces from each other.
i dread that today’s society only focuses of the popularity and how much money you have. why do people have to have fake friends instead of the real ones who care and will be by your side.
Why is it that we dread the day we see our fathers’ ghosts again? They all gather in the same beer hall to drink and tell bad jokes and stories. I know one friend whose father fell from the roof one night while he was inebriated by cider and whiskey and whimsical dreams. I thought maybe that the dreams hit him harder than the alcohol ever did. Perhaps it’s better to close the door and have our second round at another pub.
A wave of cold doom and gloom over something terrible. Or perhaps something small, but it’s really just your shit brain blowing it up to insane proportions as the small voice of reason speaks of how irrational this fear and worry is. You can’t help it, you feel paralyzed at the mere thought of moving forward. Living through it. Oh god, why this?
That feeling you get when you are facing something that you really don’t want to do, like telling your new boyfriend that you have herpes, and hoping that he doesn’t want to leave, but thinking he will anyway. Its the feeling in the pit of your stomach when you cant bring yourself to do something, but have to.
In morning, a slow burn, toes tangled in sheets, willing captives. From sideways eyes, nothing good will come from the day’s expectations. Through the hours it turns from burn to ice, sudden and sharp, fingers tapping on a darkened screen, darting eyes full of darts. A look out the window turned stare, impatient leg shaking desk. Midnight, dark hallway, full bladder, shaking fingers, sleepless trance tracing lights on the ceiling;
When, when, when?
Not sure I dread anything. I am sort of guys who always looks for positive. Who always hopes that there will be light at end of tunnel. There will be sun out soon on rainy day.
I dread doing this
Fear, pulsing through me. I am afraid. Death comes from afar and we wait, but for some it approaches now. Immediate. In the fire below us. I see it as it wades into my consciousness. I am but a dreadful piece of shit. Life begins and bores me too. I shall be the one. To give the heart to me.
We put our game of Dread on hold while Kitty was crying in the bathroom with Smith outside the door, knocking apologetically.
Paralyzed knowing what is looming in the shadows.
broke back weeping the seeds are deceiving
never quite do what you’d told
the dread is deadening;
the smoke that never billows
and the love is finite
the light is too bright
the starry night is obscene
the day turns into something serene.
the dread crept up her spine like a cockroach. there was nothing to describe what she was seeing right now. she couldn’t even scream.
I dread to be dreaded. I hope my presence in any circumstance or room is beneficial and positive. I don’t want a life where there is a time to dread something. I want to look for the light at the end of the tunnel, the sun to come out on a rainy day, and most importantly my self talk doesn’t need to involve dread.
fingers grip the tea cup and tight white knots form where knuckles should be, and the porcelain burns hot against the skin, and you’ve forgotten to wash your hair again. eyes dart from window to the door, from roof to the floor, here and there while the screeching sounds of cop sirens and car horns fill the room. the window is open — why have you forgotten to close the window? why have you forgotten to lock the door? insidiousness sings behind the skull. open mouth is dry and the heart is fearing.
OK DREAD, HERE IN ITALY IS A HAIRSTYLE AND IT REMINDES ME OF A GUY That liked mE A YEaR AGO. i haven’T THOUGHT ABOUt you IN A YEAR. I Hope he’s ok. HE HAD SOME PROBLEMS with drugs. ONLy god knows what he’s doing now
I fell dread when I watching Annabelle
everyone will have this, we need to be brave, and against with dread, when you face to it,
My heart filled with dread as I received the news. He was dead? How could that be? Just hours ago we were wrapped in sweet embrace. He had told me he loved me for the first time, and now he was gone. How am I supposed to move on from this? I thought I had found my soulmate.
I dread mowing the lawn because it is very hot outside and I have a huge yard ,luckily mt brother helps me!
i dread that i may have to get rid of my aniamls one day.
i always dread going to things like school. Now i just do homework at home because i do home schooling. It is pretty fun because you get to work at your own pace.
She felt that familiar knot in her stomach. She didn’t try to push it away this time. She let it tangle her insides into an intelligible rats nest, no way to disengage the pieces from each other.
i dread that today’s society only focuses of the popularity and how much money you have. why do people have to have fake friends instead of the real ones who care and will be by your side.
Dread is an interesting thing. It can be a verb or an adjective.
“Dread” is a word that fills me with dread. What a dreadful assignment.
I dread the times when I am not forced to rest, to eat, but instead I must complete what it is I do not know. I think I have to go.
Instinct, gut feeling? Where do we get this sense of dread from? It feels like the worst thing ever is going to happen.
He always dreaded having to walk last te darm alley. He bever knew what lurked behind the shadows. It could be anything.
He opened the door and was filled with dread. Who was this old woman sitting on his bed?
I dread that America wil destroy North-korea if they don’t stop testing bombs
One day a guy named Hank asked his teacher what does dread mean. The teacher said it was fear. Hank said ok and moved on with his live. The end.
I don’t dread it anymore. Life is short. Dreams are golden, hope is forever. Feel the feels. To the stars.
Why is it that we dread the day we see our fathers’ ghosts again? They all gather in the same beer hall to drink and tell bad jokes and stories. I know one friend whose father fell from the roof one night while he was inebriated by cider and whiskey and whimsical dreams. I thought maybe that the dreams hit him harder than the alcohol ever did. Perhaps it’s better to close the door and have our second round at another pub.
A wave of cold doom and gloom over something terrible. Or perhaps something small, but it’s really just your shit brain blowing it up to insane proportions as the small voice of reason speaks of how irrational this fear and worry is. You can’t help it, you feel paralyzed at the mere thought of moving forward. Living through it. Oh god, why this?
That feeling you get when you are facing something that you really don’t want to do, like telling your new boyfriend that you have herpes, and hoping that he doesn’t want to leave, but thinking he will anyway. Its the feeling in the pit of your stomach when you cant bring yourself to do something, but have to.