There was a sharp moment of clarity as the accusation of the words hung in the air between them. She looked back at him, her soft eyes wide and frightened. Paralyzed between comfort and a desire to run. I too felt the sinking finality of it, fixed to the spot knowing that from the moment he had opened his mouth and she had paused it had been enough to unravel it all.
the words tell you bad thing and it takes you to a way that has no opening so you can thing about how to get out of it. it also make you think down and
I always regret the nights I am around you
You words intoxicate me
Or maybe it’s the wine beside me
Whatever the reason, when I am with you, these fragile arms of mine are instead wings, but as I soar up and up into the sky, white feathers turn back to cracked brown skin, and I’m alone as I fall.
Sinking can mean a lot of things. Usually when I think of myself sinking, it is in the middle of a giant ocean with giant waves crashing over me while I’m trying to take a breath of air just to last a little longer.
I nip his ear. “Ow, you’re hurting me.” He doesn’t flinch and keeps reading the news on his phone. I nip at his neck. “Seriously, ow.” He doesn’t even bother to roll over on the bed to stop me. I nip my way down his arm before sinking my teeth into the side of his stomach. “Ow, I said you’re hurting me.” He still doesn’t put his phone down and he’s faintly smiling as though this might tickle more than it hurts. I smile and wonder if he can feel the menace tightening up in my jaws, pressing firmer into his flesh .
“UM, OW.”
“But there’s so just so much of you to eat; you’re like a goddamn Roman feast.”
“I’m a what now?” he laughs and checks where I bit him. The indents are already disappearing.
Down, down, down the well weighted down by chains, the smooth stone wall sliding by, no handholds, glowing green that snaked round his arms, stillness.
Ugh, there it goes. That bit of stature I chewed on with immature words and swallowed is sinking like a heavy lost treasure into my gut. I feel shame. I had held my head high and retained my calm.
Feeling like you’re losing touch is the strangest thing. Like your head was above the surface for so long.. just bobbing up and down. And then the storm comes. The waves bellow menacingly over you, and the all too familiar experience of sinking envelopes you once again.
He was sinking, further and further down into this pit of despair. Ian didn’t think he’d ever be able to climb back up out of it either. It’d been years now, years, since he’d begun drinking heavily. After many attempts of quitting, it was just a matter of time before he found himself back in the middle of it. No matter the reason, they were all pretty pathetic. At first, it had been his marriage ending. Then there was the possible layoff the college was facing. And after that it had been his loneliness more than anything.
The air is denser today. It’s heavy as it flows into my lungs like mercury, like detergent, like the Atlantic Ocean and I am battling just to stay buoyant. And my chest hurts with the force of each breath.
“Just breathe,” they say, as if that is the final, penultimate cure for all pains. But each breath just makes me heavier, makes it harder to stay stable. My rational thoughts are like motes of dust in a sunbeam, and all I can do is observe them from afar. And I sink.
There’s both panic and calm here. Panic, because of losing control. Calm for the same reason. Because maybe somewhere in the wilderness, in the place where the sunbeams and dust-motes don’t reach, there are answers.
But the dense air coagulates, crystalises, solidifies in my sternum and grows like the roots of a weed with tentacles that slither over my trembling character. And I sink further, and the denseness and darkness is black like ink.
I feel like I’m drowning. Clawing, clashing, thrashing through the thick liquid that surrounds me. My chest is tight, my heart is heavy. I’m being sucked into the abyss that is my own failure. I’m sinking, sinking, sunk. No way out. No escape.
People think that drowning is peaceful. It isn’t. It’s a crushing weight upon your entire body, water filling every orifice and making you choke in attempt to get back the air that’s vacant from your lungs. It’s your heart filling with liquid, stuttering and slowing, as you slowly sink further and further underwater, flailing limbs weakening. The rippling sunlight fading into the navy blue of the deep ocean as your eyelids slip shut, the black following the blue.
Every step that I took I was falling closer and closer to the earth below. Scary and exciting all at once. What would happen if I jumped? Would I fall into the snow covered mound? I can imagine that shivering delight in which I would rise towards the sky with. Smile as white as the falling flakes. This is my favorite memory. I was sinking but in the best way possible.
Are you liking in quicksand? Do you feel that way when it comes to branding? How about when it comes to life? If you have too many choices, too many options, too many paths and can’t seem to decide, then the quicksand traps you. Keep still, meditate and stay calm. Get out of the quicksand.
She was going to drown. This would be the end. She would quit the horrid game called life.
She was going to sink. Nothing would be left of her. She couldn’t handle what life had thrown at her.
She looked out at the horizon and was greeted by a new friend.
“Hello, what is your name?” The girl questioned, the tiredness in her voice leaking out more with each word.
“My name is Death.”
Then everything was black.
I could feel my heart sinking quickly as my crush turned away from me. The way that sharp “No” had burst from her mouth felt like a mini-torpedo crashing into my ribcage. I could feel the blood swirling in my head, my mouth going dry like it was turning into a desert. I said nothing, nodded to her back, and quickly turned and walked toward the bathroom to cry in a stall.
Her stomach fell to the bottom of her body. The envelope was nothing remarkable. Flat, thin, white, unassuming, taunting in it’s simplicity. There is nothing as daunting as something that is supposed to change your life that looks uninteresting.
The floor was sinking, I could see everything in slow motion, the walls crumbling, the ceiling cracking and myself going through the floors. God, it felt like hours before my head smashed in to the floor
I have this feeling
sinking
that I screwed it up
that a part of me
let loose
or impulsive rather
and I sunk the ship that held me
helped me
to see
that part I was trying to be
ugh, i Feel like IM sinking right now. water over me, under me, and surrounding me form all sides. not in a good way. well maybe from time to time it feels go not to think, just to sink. no choice to make if i don’t want to. no floating, that take too much effort. just sinking. i think of the temperature and how that changes everything.
He quickly fell lower, and lower with his own weight, the long and forceful flight and ungodly load of mysticism wrapped all over himself.
Felt his head going uncomfortable and numb with just that one last thought: ‘Damn, I didn’t expect that even of you..!’
Sometimes I feel like I am sinking. Like the world is continuing around me, but I can not move. It is too much. The kids, the house, the family, the spouse, cheer, school; I am drowning. I need to be saved, but only I can save myself. I need to save myself.
She fell to her knees, heart beating like a drum in her chest. It was the only thing she felt, even when her knees hit the ground hard, making her body judder from the impact. Her hands fell too, in front of her, planting on the ground as she gasped for air as if she was beneath water, trying to keep her head raised and remain afloat even when she was sinking.
As he approached the house, the sinking feeling in his stomach alerted him to trouble even before he registered what was happening. There were two police cars, their lights flashing, parked on either side of the driveway.
There was a sharp moment of clarity as the accusation of the words hung in the air between them. She looked back at him, her soft eyes wide and frightened. Paralyzed between comfort and a desire to run. I too felt the sinking finality of it, fixed to the spot knowing that from the moment he had opened his mouth and she had paused it had been enough to unravel it all.
the words tell you bad thing and it takes you to a way that has no opening so you can thing about how to get out of it. it also make you think down and
I always regret the nights I am around you
You words intoxicate me
Or maybe it’s the wine beside me
Whatever the reason, when I am with you, these fragile arms of mine are instead wings, but as I soar up and up into the sky, white feathers turn back to cracked brown skin, and I’m alone as I fall.
Sinking can mean a lot of things. Usually when I think of myself sinking, it is in the middle of a giant ocean with giant waves crashing over me while I’m trying to take a breath of air just to last a little longer.
I nip his ear. “Ow, you’re hurting me.” He doesn’t flinch and keeps reading the news on his phone. I nip at his neck. “Seriously, ow.” He doesn’t even bother to roll over on the bed to stop me. I nip my way down his arm before sinking my teeth into the side of his stomach. “Ow, I said you’re hurting me.” He still doesn’t put his phone down and he’s faintly smiling as though this might tickle more than it hurts. I smile and wonder if he can feel the menace tightening up in my jaws, pressing firmer into his flesh .
“UM, OW.”
“But there’s so just so much of you to eat; you’re like a goddamn Roman feast.”
“I’m a what now?” he laughs and checks where I bit him. The indents are already disappearing.
Down, down, down the well weighted down by chains, the smooth stone wall sliding by, no handholds, glowing green that snaked round his arms, stillness.
Ugh, there it goes. That bit of stature I chewed on with immature words and swallowed is sinking like a heavy lost treasure into my gut. I feel shame. I had held my head high and retained my calm.
Feeling like you’re losing touch is the strangest thing. Like your head was above the surface for so long.. just bobbing up and down. And then the storm comes. The waves bellow menacingly over you, and the all too familiar experience of sinking envelopes you once again.
Sometimes I think i like the feeling of the ground falling away beneath my feet, the futterng of panicked butterflies in my stomach. sinking.
He was sinking, further and further down into this pit of despair. Ian didn’t think he’d ever be able to climb back up out of it either. It’d been years now, years, since he’d begun drinking heavily. After many attempts of quitting, it was just a matter of time before he found himself back in the middle of it. No matter the reason, they were all pretty pathetic. At first, it had been his marriage ending. Then there was the possible layoff the college was facing. And after that it had been his loneliness more than anything.
The air is denser today. It’s heavy as it flows into my lungs like mercury, like detergent, like the Atlantic Ocean and I am battling just to stay buoyant. And my chest hurts with the force of each breath.
“Just breathe,” they say, as if that is the final, penultimate cure for all pains. But each breath just makes me heavier, makes it harder to stay stable. My rational thoughts are like motes of dust in a sunbeam, and all I can do is observe them from afar. And I sink.
There’s both panic and calm here. Panic, because of losing control. Calm for the same reason. Because maybe somewhere in the wilderness, in the place where the sunbeams and dust-motes don’t reach, there are answers.
But the dense air coagulates, crystalises, solidifies in my sternum and grows like the roots of a weed with tentacles that slither over my trembling character. And I sink further, and the denseness and darkness is black like ink.
THis relationship is sinking. All my efforts are drifting futher and futher into the abyss and is sinking slowly towards the bottom of the ocean
I feel like I’m drowning. Clawing, clashing, thrashing through the thick liquid that surrounds me. My chest is tight, my heart is heavy. I’m being sucked into the abyss that is my own failure. I’m sinking, sinking, sunk. No way out. No escape.
People think that drowning is peaceful. It isn’t. It’s a crushing weight upon your entire body, water filling every orifice and making you choke in attempt to get back the air that’s vacant from your lungs. It’s your heart filling with liquid, stuttering and slowing, as you slowly sink further and further underwater, flailing limbs weakening. The rippling sunlight fading into the navy blue of the deep ocean as your eyelids slip shut, the black following the blue.
Every step that I took I was falling closer and closer to the earth below. Scary and exciting all at once. What would happen if I jumped? Would I fall into the snow covered mound? I can imagine that shivering delight in which I would rise towards the sky with. Smile as white as the falling flakes. This is my favorite memory. I was sinking but in the best way possible.
Are you liking in quicksand? Do you feel that way when it comes to branding? How about when it comes to life? If you have too many choices, too many options, too many paths and can’t seem to decide, then the quicksand traps you. Keep still, meditate and stay calm. Get out of the quicksand.
She was going to drown. This would be the end. She would quit the horrid game called life.
She was going to sink. Nothing would be left of her. She couldn’t handle what life had thrown at her.
She looked out at the horizon and was greeted by a new friend.
“Hello, what is your name?” The girl questioned, the tiredness in her voice leaking out more with each word.
“My name is Death.”
Then everything was black.
I could feel my heart sinking quickly as my crush turned away from me. The way that sharp “No” had burst from her mouth felt like a mini-torpedo crashing into my ribcage. I could feel the blood swirling in my head, my mouth going dry like it was turning into a desert. I said nothing, nodded to her back, and quickly turned and walked toward the bathroom to cry in a stall.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
falling
down, down into the abyss,
heart on fire
soul in pain
can’t find my way out
of this domain
Her stomach fell to the bottom of her body. The envelope was nothing remarkable. Flat, thin, white, unassuming, taunting in it’s simplicity. There is nothing as daunting as something that is supposed to change your life that looks uninteresting.
The floor was sinking, I could see everything in slow motion, the walls crumbling, the ceiling cracking and myself going through the floors. God, it felt like hours before my head smashed in to the floor
I have this feeling
sinking
that I screwed it up
that a part of me
let loose
or impulsive rather
and I sunk the ship that held me
helped me
to see
that part I was trying to be
ugh, i Feel like IM sinking right now. water over me, under me, and surrounding me form all sides. not in a good way. well maybe from time to time it feels go not to think, just to sink. no choice to make if i don’t want to. no floating, that take too much effort. just sinking. i think of the temperature and how that changes everything.
He quickly fell lower, and lower with his own weight, the long and forceful flight and ungodly load of mysticism wrapped all over himself.
Felt his head going uncomfortable and numb with just that one last thought: ‘Damn, I didn’t expect that even of you..!’
Sometimes I feel like I am sinking. Like the world is continuing around me, but I can not move. It is too much. The kids, the house, the family, the spouse, cheer, school; I am drowning. I need to be saved, but only I can save myself. I need to save myself.
Ship. Drink. Depression. Sea, darkness and mind. My sister. This society. Black livre matter. Hope. 21st century and economical crisis.
the floor beneath me dropped
it was the end as I knew it
real, metaphorical
it didn’t matter
this is it
life as I knew it
was now
sinking.
She fell to her knees, heart beating like a drum in her chest. It was the only thing she felt, even when her knees hit the ground hard, making her body judder from the impact. Her hands fell too, in front of her, planting on the ground as she gasped for air as if she was beneath water, trying to keep her head raised and remain afloat even when she was sinking.
down the toilet
Titanic, The first word that comes to your mind when you read ‘sinking’. The most well known ship sinking story known to man!
As he approached the house, the sinking feeling in his stomach alerted him to trouble even before he registered what was happening. There were two police cars, their lights flashing, parked on either side of the driveway.