The air around her felt thick and constricting, her chest heavy, throat tight. Failure rang in her ears and the crushing sensation that she had disappointed everyone, and everything, that believed in her and that she believed in, refused to leave her.
Clean the plate, remove from sight. Destroyed and annihilated it’s all the same and complete. Remove and completeness are part of the story – it’s gone, never to return. It’s not perfect but it is absolute.
Nothing. Nothing was left. The entire town had been reduced to nothing more than ashes and broken rubble. There was no one around, no creatures or machines making noise. There was just nothing. I could see for miles, and all I saw was nothing.
I sit here, illuminated by a light in another room that is barely reaching me on the couch, where I sit. This place is cold and alone, and I am unable to leave. I put myself here, didn’t i? Those damn keys should never have left my sight, not for a second. Now I am trapped, until they keys have been sent my way again. Days have past, maybe even a week; I do not know. All I have are small games and a eon to entertain me… I haven’t spoken to anyone in days, and I find my self talking out loud just make sure I still have a voice.
The noble forest, trees so tall and ever green, now stood desolate, a kingdom of death where life once reigned. The ground was as ash beneath our feet, graying our clothes and staining our skin with the remains of our homes, our families, our very lives. And a question, a single desperate question, echoed so loudly in each of our minds that there was no need to speak it aloud:
‘What would we do now?’
It was the feeling of revelation I always thought one could get from a rewarding, though unplanned roadtrip across country. It was a feeling of desolation all the same.
The landscape was desolate, not a human in sight. The coyote looked rabid in the moonlight. It shone bluish on the saliva dripping from the coyote’s mouth. Which way to go? Do I run towards it in the hopes of scaring it off or just dash for the car?
It’s one of the things I never wanted to admit to you, maybe because you would suddenly feel like this high and mighty, pompous dick who already knew that everything was given to him. Have you even known what it’s like for someone to give so much to you genuinely without asking for anything in return?
All I wanted was enough respect to know what was going on inside your head, when you gave me the feeling that you could tell me anything (and who could forget your promises, for Christ’s sake, your promises — you were a “man” of your word!). If anything, I don’t regret giving you so much of myself. Even if you ran away with it, I knew that it was something you needed the most.
desolation of raspberries. a sea foam desert peppered with shards of souls. the sun god ate des and was rebirthed in a glory of bronze translucence. denim lead hangs on her form planked in the white shimmer.
It shocked her that that was the first word that came to mind; that she could look in the kitchen pantries of so many faces, hike through the crevices at the edges of smiles, scour the whole back lands of miles and miles of wrinkling, sagging, pimply, cratered, leathery deserts, and still find nothing but void.
The desolate area chilled her. She scaled the hill and gazed over the expanse of short, dark green grass. A cold gust hit her in the face. She rubbed her arms.
The surroundings were bare and desolate. It was obvious to any fool that there could be no life on this planet, but he still had to go through the motions of his experiments. Four days of endless work, then he would be left to die here. He wondered again about the wisdom of not telling the engineers who created him that he had achieved sentience.
Gen had always been very desolate.
She preferred her solitude over actually interacting with other people. People other than the ones in her head that is.
Two lovers stand in a treeless, desolate landscape, facing each other, facing off. It’s like something out of an old Americana oil painting or a Western film, except the girl’s wearing leather pants and the guy’s in fluorescent short shorts. Dry earth beneath her leather boots and his penny loafers. Not a cloud in the vast, blue sky overhead. Not another soul for miles. A car is just behind them, doors left open, key still in the ignition.
sometimes there is nothing and when there is nothing it is hard for things to grow. everyone knows though that beautiful things can often grow from ashes. desolation is just the beginning. and when there is nothing there can only be new things to fill it.
a lonely place… person … things. Devoid of life it stands in the middle of nothing and waits. Waits for something to come along and fill the void within the void of its existence.
Two lovers stand in a desolate, treeless desert, facing each other, facing off. It’s like something out of an old Americana oil painting or a Western movie, except the girl is wearing leather pants and the guy’s is florescent short shorts. Dry earth beneath her leather boots and his penny loafers. Not a cloud in the fast, blue sky overhead. Not another soul for miles. A car is parked just behind them, doors left open, key still in the ignition.
i feel as if the situation has gotten out of control
the blank empty space like an unfinished manuscript
the words leading to not quite anything
the laughter silence of painful indecision
desolate, like a winter’s morning
all cold breathe and red noses
christmas time alone
holidays alone
break back sold soul soulless goodbye.
To make lonely is in the definition of desolate. That seems powerful to me. To make lonely. I am kind of lonely today. I am alone a lot today because that is how my schedual works out. So I am desolate. It is not a good feeling. This lack of community. We are pack animals after all.
How be desolate? It is a word so full, so complete and whole. How can you be desolate? If supplementation is desolation. To be desolate is necessary to have complete state of love…
He wants me to be his scribe. “Write about me when I’m gone, let the world know.” But he understands something about enjoyment that I don’t, and I understand and something about virtue that he does not. It’s a broken deal. Never make deals with people clever enough to hide from themselves.
Desolate, that’s a good way to put it. It cuts past the meaningless fluff-words we use to try and hide the fact from ourselves, even though it’s burning bright. We try to isolate ourselves, because we all have an innate fear of each other. The greatest, most innate wish of humanity is to be utterly desolate.
And the entire countryside lay ragged, torn up and destroyed by the storms that had ravaged it. Those who had once spent their lives working there, growing there, living there had simply left. Those who decided to stay behind found it to be a foolish idea – they ended up dead. Of course, these were no ordinary storms. Something of such wild strength could not possibly be natural. No, there was an enemy, an enemy with unending power.
An abandoned barn in the middle of a field gone to seed. Nothing as far as the eye can see but undulating waves of wheat, with the hint of something topographically interesting far off in the distance. Who would build a barn here? One tree stands to the side, dejected and bare, with a rope hanging down that must have once held a tire, or at least a plank of rough wood for bare feet and calloused hands to cling to. There is a tangible stillness, though an underlying and ever-present tension, as if the sky is waiting to burst into storm clouds and interrupt this desolate scene.
The place was utterly empty. She walked into the middle of the living room and looked around her, seeing nothing but blank walls and empty floors. The baseboards needed a scrub, but that was just a part of her brain pointing out a meaningless detail in order to distract her from the unimaginable truth: he was gone. He had left.
The way his eyes slipped right past me, as our paths crossed down the hall, shattered me.
It made the void inside me only emptier.
It is hard to believe I could be barer than I was a couple of days ago, when his mere words destroyed every little particle of what seemed to be my frail mind.
But words don’t hurt as much as being nonexistent in ones life.
Words are merely collateral damage to the way not being acknowledged could desolate you.
Being alone wasn’t ever the point. the point was to have the time to think about whatever it was that was going on in his head. Sometimes, it was the only time that the voices would stop. Give him peace. LEss echoes. The only echo was the memory that when he was with everyone else it would all start up again. Blending blacks with whites, what began and ended wasn’t clear. Like a dream, but one that he’d never had.
The town that had once been such a staple of the gold rush was desolate, and had been so for over one hundred years. However, there was something to be said about its aesthetics as my team and I explored it, examining the abandoned buildings and saloons that had somehow maintained a fairly steady presence and foundation in the desert area. I half-expected a tumbleweed to swoop past my ankles as I sauntered over to an old bar, its sign still readable in the dust.
I am desolate. You said you would be here. You promised. But there is nothing left. Not even your ghost. You promised you would come back to me after you died. I waited for hours by our tree. But not even the grass moved as I waited for your spirit to come back to me. Where did you go? Why have you left me desolate? I love you.
It was a desolate world full of monsters, vampires and witches alike. They were hostile, yet light was shone to them by a human named Arabelle. Arabelle was angelic, but she was not of high standings as she was only human. She held a sword of might and a plentiful hope. She felt that she needed to get the creatures to feel the love and warmth she was given as a child. But they refused. They headed deeper into the safety of their webs and let no one in. The vampires were scared, the witches ran, and the monsters unleashed a mighty wrath, but Arabelle was devoted.
It was painful, really. She knelt down, fingers scraping lightly over the ground. The movement caused shards of glass to clink together far too merrily, and she drew back, worried she might get hurt. The town had been reduced to a wasteland in less than the blink of an eye: this is what happened when people let fear overrule their compassion for life.
I lifted her head, cupping her cheek, wiping the seemingly unending tears from her eyes. “Come back to me.”
For the first time since the accident, she spoke, albeit brokenly. The desolate state her mind was in prevented her from thinking clearly, from being who she really was. “I will when you bring Rose back.”
That stung. “I had no control over that, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time—”
“You killed my little sister, Nick. You killed Rose and you don’t even care.” She gritted her teeth, shoving my hand away. “Leave me alone.”
“No, I won’t leave you alone!” I yelled, slamming my fist down hard on the table, pent up emotions finally bursting. “I love you! And I loved Rose! You both mean the world to me! I can never close my eyes without seeing her twisted body, the very life bleeding out of her! Every single day I go through I wish it had been me! I know you’re hurting, Kat, but I am too!”
A few beats of silence passed. My throat felt raw and I knew my eyes were red from crying, but when her arms went around me I thought that maybe…maybe we could make it.
the streets were empty. not even a random paper or piece of plastic. his heels clicked and echoed down the street. a shiver rose up his spine. the smell of rot hit his nose but he couldn’t tell where it came from.
The air around her felt thick and constricting, her chest heavy, throat tight. Failure rang in her ears and the crushing sensation that she had disappointed everyone, and everything, that believed in her and that she believed in, refused to leave her.
Clean the plate, remove from sight. Destroyed and annihilated it’s all the same and complete. Remove and completeness are part of the story – it’s gone, never to return. It’s not perfect but it is absolute.
I wish I could type faster.
Nothing. Nothing was left. The entire town had been reduced to nothing more than ashes and broken rubble. There was no one around, no creatures or machines making noise. There was just nothing. I could see for miles, and all I saw was nothing.
I sit here, illuminated by a light in another room that is barely reaching me on the couch, where I sit. This place is cold and alone, and I am unable to leave. I put myself here, didn’t i? Those damn keys should never have left my sight, not for a second. Now I am trapped, until they keys have been sent my way again. Days have past, maybe even a week; I do not know. All I have are small games and a eon to entertain me… I haven’t spoken to anyone in days, and I find my self talking out loud just make sure I still have a voice.
The noble forest, trees so tall and ever green, now stood desolate, a kingdom of death where life once reigned. The ground was as ash beneath our feet, graying our clothes and staining our skin with the remains of our homes, our families, our very lives. And a question, a single desperate question, echoed so loudly in each of our minds that there was no need to speak it aloud:
‘What would we do now?’
It was the feeling of revelation I always thought one could get from a rewarding, though unplanned roadtrip across country. It was a feeling of desolation all the same.
The landscape was desolate, not a human in sight. The coyote looked rabid in the moonlight. It shone bluish on the saliva dripping from the coyote’s mouth. Which way to go? Do I run towards it in the hopes of scaring it off or just dash for the car?
It’s one of the things I never wanted to admit to you, maybe because you would suddenly feel like this high and mighty, pompous dick who already knew that everything was given to him. Have you even known what it’s like for someone to give so much to you genuinely without asking for anything in return?
All I wanted was enough respect to know what was going on inside your head, when you gave me the feeling that you could tell me anything (and who could forget your promises, for Christ’s sake, your promises — you were a “man” of your word!). If anything, I don’t regret giving you so much of myself. Even if you ran away with it, I knew that it was something you needed the most.
I love to see things with desolate they are soooooooo cool! my food sometimes is a desolate.
desolation of raspberries. a sea foam desert peppered with shards of souls. the sun god ate des and was rebirthed in a glory of bronze translucence. denim lead hangs on her form planked in the white shimmer.
will you continue to read
my moods
so easily
there they are
before you
before everyone we know
so easily seen
and still you mean to try
and abandon me
It shocked her that that was the first word that came to mind; that she could look in the kitchen pantries of so many faces, hike through the crevices at the edges of smiles, scour the whole back lands of miles and miles of wrinkling, sagging, pimply, cratered, leathery deserts, and still find nothing but void.
The desolate area chilled her. She scaled the hill and gazed over the expanse of short, dark green grass. A cold gust hit her in the face. She rubbed her arms.
The surroundings were bare and desolate. It was obvious to any fool that there could be no life on this planet, but he still had to go through the motions of his experiments. Four days of endless work, then he would be left to die here. He wondered again about the wisdom of not telling the engineers who created him that he had achieved sentience.
Gen had always been very desolate.
She preferred her solitude over actually interacting with other people. People other than the ones in her head that is.
I was desolate when my husband died suddenly from swine flu. It hit me so hard, I didn’t know what or who I was anymore. Grief takes you apart.
Two lovers stand in a treeless, desolate landscape, facing each other, facing off. It’s like something out of an old Americana oil painting or a Western film, except the girl’s wearing leather pants and the guy’s in fluorescent short shorts. Dry earth beneath her leather boots and his penny loafers. Not a cloud in the vast, blue sky overhead. Not another soul for miles. A car is just behind them, doors left open, key still in the ignition.
sometimes there is nothing and when there is nothing it is hard for things to grow. everyone knows though that beautiful things can often grow from ashes. desolation is just the beginning. and when there is nothing there can only be new things to fill it.
a lonely place… person … things. Devoid of life it stands in the middle of nothing and waits. Waits for something to come along and fill the void within the void of its existence.
Two lovers stand in a desolate, treeless desert, facing each other, facing off. It’s like something out of an old Americana oil painting or a Western movie, except the girl is wearing leather pants and the guy’s is florescent short shorts. Dry earth beneath her leather boots and his penny loafers. Not a cloud in the fast, blue sky overhead. Not another soul for miles. A car is parked just behind them, doors left open, key still in the ignition.
i feel as if the situation has gotten out of control
the blank empty space like an unfinished manuscript
the words leading to not quite anything
the laughter silence of painful indecision
desolate, like a winter’s morning
all cold breathe and red noses
christmas time alone
holidays alone
break back sold soul soulless goodbye.
To make lonely is in the definition of desolate. That seems powerful to me. To make lonely. I am kind of lonely today. I am alone a lot today because that is how my schedual works out. So I am desolate. It is not a good feeling. This lack of community. We are pack animals after all.
left alone. to leave alone. forsake, strip of inhabitants. To make lonely
How be desolate? It is a word so full, so complete and whole. How can you be desolate? If supplementation is desolation. To be desolate is necessary to have complete state of love…
He wants me to be his scribe. “Write about me when I’m gone, let the world know.” But he understands something about enjoyment that I don’t, and I understand and something about virtue that he does not. It’s a broken deal. Never make deals with people clever enough to hide from themselves.
Desolate, that’s a good way to put it. It cuts past the meaningless fluff-words we use to try and hide the fact from ourselves, even though it’s burning bright. We try to isolate ourselves, because we all have an innate fear of each other. The greatest, most innate wish of humanity is to be utterly desolate.
Desolate–I am alone. The car want start. Nothing looks familiar in my home town. Desolate is me feeling empty aand
And the entire countryside lay ragged, torn up and destroyed by the storms that had ravaged it. Those who had once spent their lives working there, growing there, living there had simply left. Those who decided to stay behind found it to be a foolish idea – they ended up dead. Of course, these were no ordinary storms. Something of such wild strength could not possibly be natural. No, there was an enemy, an enemy with unending power.
Once a desolate scrap of skin is tossed into water, the jig is up. No philandering mate would scarcely sing a color his way.
An abandoned barn in the middle of a field gone to seed. Nothing as far as the eye can see but undulating waves of wheat, with the hint of something topographically interesting far off in the distance. Who would build a barn here? One tree stands to the side, dejected and bare, with a rope hanging down that must have once held a tire, or at least a plank of rough wood for bare feet and calloused hands to cling to. There is a tangible stillness, though an underlying and ever-present tension, as if the sky is waiting to burst into storm clouds and interrupt this desolate scene.
The place was utterly empty. She walked into the middle of the living room and looked around her, seeing nothing but blank walls and empty floors. The baseboards needed a scrub, but that was just a part of her brain pointing out a meaningless detail in order to distract her from the unimaginable truth: he was gone. He had left.
The way his eyes slipped right past me, as our paths crossed down the hall, shattered me.
It made the void inside me only emptier.
It is hard to believe I could be barer than I was a couple of days ago, when his mere words destroyed every little particle of what seemed to be my frail mind.
But words don’t hurt as much as being nonexistent in ones life.
Words are merely collateral damage to the way not being acknowledged could desolate you.
Being alone wasn’t ever the point. the point was to have the time to think about whatever it was that was going on in his head. Sometimes, it was the only time that the voices would stop. Give him peace. LEss echoes. The only echo was the memory that when he was with everyone else it would all start up again. Blending blacks with whites, what began and ended wasn’t clear. Like a dream, but one that he’d never had.
The town that had once been such a staple of the gold rush was desolate, and had been so for over one hundred years. However, there was something to be said about its aesthetics as my team and I explored it, examining the abandoned buildings and saloons that had somehow maintained a fairly steady presence and foundation in the desert area. I half-expected a tumbleweed to swoop past my ankles as I sauntered over to an old bar, its sign still readable in the dust.
I am desolate. You said you would be here. You promised. But there is nothing left. Not even your ghost. You promised you would come back to me after you died. I waited for hours by our tree. But not even the grass moved as I waited for your spirit to come back to me. Where did you go? Why have you left me desolate? I love you.
It was a desolate world full of monsters, vampires and witches alike. They were hostile, yet light was shone to them by a human named Arabelle. Arabelle was angelic, but she was not of high standings as she was only human. She held a sword of might and a plentiful hope. She felt that she needed to get the creatures to feel the love and warmth she was given as a child. But they refused. They headed deeper into the safety of their webs and let no one in. The vampires were scared, the witches ran, and the monsters unleashed a mighty wrath, but Arabelle was devoted.
It was painful, really. She knelt down, fingers scraping lightly over the ground. The movement caused shards of glass to clink together far too merrily, and she drew back, worried she might get hurt. The town had been reduced to a wasteland in less than the blink of an eye: this is what happened when people let fear overrule their compassion for life.
I lifted her head, cupping her cheek, wiping the seemingly unending tears from her eyes. “Come back to me.”
For the first time since the accident, she spoke, albeit brokenly. The desolate state her mind was in prevented her from thinking clearly, from being who she really was. “I will when you bring Rose back.”
That stung. “I had no control over that, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time—”
“You killed my little sister, Nick. You killed Rose and you don’t even care.” She gritted her teeth, shoving my hand away. “Leave me alone.”
“No, I won’t leave you alone!” I yelled, slamming my fist down hard on the table, pent up emotions finally bursting. “I love you! And I loved Rose! You both mean the world to me! I can never close my eyes without seeing her twisted body, the very life bleeding out of her! Every single day I go through I wish it had been me! I know you’re hurting, Kat, but I am too!”
A few beats of silence passed. My throat felt raw and I knew my eyes were red from crying, but when her arms went around me I thought that maybe…maybe we could make it.
the streets were empty. not even a random paper or piece of plastic. his heels clicked and echoed down the street. a shiver rose up his spine. the smell of rot hit his nose but he couldn’t tell where it came from.