it’s a little bit defeatist but i’ve convinced myself that being lonely because i’ve retreated into myself is better than being lonely despite being surrounded by so many people
Forest, river, diving in and water surrounding you, rushing into your ears, surrounding your senses, taking over and washing out everything, flooding out all sensation but the cold, lapping water against your skin, flooding your ears, your pores…like hearing the rain outside the window, drowning out any thought. Like when you plug your fingers in your ears and all you can hear is the blood rushing. Hearing the ocean in a shell is just this…solitude.
“Argh!” shouted Commander Gru and hefted his shield into the air.
The arrows flew from his bowmen’s longbows and crashed in a wave onto the enemy. Men toppled like ants below the wall, but kept coming. What a multitude of men! Never before had Gru seen so many all in one place, all with one purpose. It was harrowing and chilling.
A crack sounded where the enemy had been battering against their walls, and quick to follow was a bang and rumble that shook the walls themselves, leaving him and his men shaking.
The enemy bled through the broken doors, hacking women and soldiers apart in their haste to get to him, the commander. Shit.
“Retreat!” he called, though it went against everything he’d been taught.
retreat..would like a retreat from all this hustle..all this rushing..congestion..just want to have a quite place,bt then..quite places bring out the voices in me..they are more scary than the sounds sometimes..coz the voices tel me im not good enough..i am ugly..i am just not worth it
He needed to run as fast as his legs could withstand it, but his body refused and stubbornly remained glued to the seat. The meeting was about to start, but he still was as incapable as the first time he entered the office, or so he thought. Upon the arrival of the CEO, he pushed himself upwards and greeted the man with a casual and even charming smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. Deas.” He started, as the man shook his hand.
That was back when my love for her was untainted. When I could #retreat into her eyes without ravenous desire. When my hand over her heart was alive in her soul. When she felt the boundless enormity of the sky in my kiss. But it all fell apart…something went horribly wrong. #oneword @oznolem
I retreat into my shell when I’m in a bad place. I’m more like a turtle than a bird, with my big shell. Though I can’t swim, I CAN in fact blow up the best darn condom in the whole fucking world. Ya seen? That’s from a rap song you probably haven’t even heard yet (unless you are black or like rap or something, in which case you’re fucking weird).
it’s a bit late for these types of measures
i think we crystallized a little too early, and way too fast.
autocatalyzation or something fucked us up.
i think we could’ve been a part of something bigger,
but i think i’d rather be me,
apart.
“If we feign a retreat, we can lure them into the pass here,” she dug her knife point into the map for emphasis, “And their numbers will mean nothing,”
“That’s dishonorable conduct,” General Greaves bellowed, “It’s not sporting,”
“Do you think dying a more sporting pastime, general?” she drawled, fixing the aged warrior with a pointed look, “Because I certainly don’t,”
“Retreat!” Yelled General Washington. After an exhausting battle of blood, grime, and sweat, the Confederate Army had lost. Again. I clenched my fist into a tight ball, imagining my fingers clutched around the sorry throat of a redcoat. The rebels will win, no matter how long it takes us. There’s no other choice.
All those hours of practice had paid off, the flashmob worked a treat! The dancers, the mariachi band, the jugglers; all were perfect! Even the llamas behaved themselves! But when I dropped down out of the Pinata, thrust the ring in front of her and asked her “to be my lifetime Amigo!”; then, only then did I realise it wasn’t my girlfriend standing behind the counter.
“Maria’s not here today?” I asked, wondering how I could retreat from this scenario with any shred of my dignity intact. The girl, whose nametag told me she liked to be called Lucy, was probably as embarrassed as I. “N-no, she called in sick today. . .”
The bravest of men will charge, fly head first into danger. But only the bravest of the brave will have the courage to retreat. To fall back, acknowledge they cannot continue. It is this self awareness that has saved so many lives, but the complete lack of it has caused so many unnecessary deaths and pain. Sometimes we need to retreat.
Cheech told us about his retreat. First we cut up some onions and peppers, then olive oil. then father Bernardi blesses them and we play cards. Oh, we say grace.
This was my retreat. Whenever I was here, well, it was not that nothing else mattered – it was that nothing else could find me, and I could wait, think, until I could face it all again. This was less a place, than a state of being.
A state of being wherein my family thought I had disappeared off the face of the earth, because they could not see me anywhere.
to retreat is to escape
the worries, the lies
to find comfort
in that which does not exist.
we look for retreat because
we crave stability
and with out that anchor
we will sink.
Escape reality.
you retreat to a place of happiness, fidelity, a place where nothing can go wrong and everything goes right. But what is wrong and what is right? What if the line between was blurred and the retreat that everyone so desperately looks to escape to is nothing but a nightmare. The fantasy that never came to,
the arc of my spear-throwing hand stopped midway through it’s path. through my eyes, i saw hellfire and ruin. my hands were black with the ash of it. it filled my lungs. i blinked and felt the breaths of my own soldiers, the enemy’s soldiers. blinking again, i turned around. i tore a patch from my shirt, called my men to a halt. swept the rag around my spear, waved it to the enemy. saw it mirrored on the other side.
the dragon lowered his golden head and stepped backwards. the maiden followed him into the cave. inside, gold coins littered the entrance, but in the center of an elaborate fixture was a ruby chain.
When she kissed him, he hesitated at first but then allowed himself to be taken away by the softness of her lips, until he remembered who’s bedroom she had been in a few days before.
I hear them screaming at as to run. The terror is flashing in their eyes darkly. They shriek, “run!” but what can we do now when the enemy is nearly upon us, when we have nothing to run to?
Retreat is a sign of surrender. A sign that you’ve given up. If you retreat, you are saying that you physically and mentally cannot complete the task you are given and that is one of the saddest things to hear and to experience.
I will retreat when I hear the drums. I will hide myself in a pile of leaves. The autumn wind will carry me away before the troops can get to me. I will climb my way up a redwood tree, and I’ll be a part of the seasonal breeze. There will be rainclouds above and hellfire below, but I’ll find equilibrium that the generals won’t know.
its a form of wisdom, not always defeat. most things were won in retreat. You tire out the enemy, hoping they will stop, and then that is when you attack. retreat is important, and never should be frowned upon.
They had been utterly defeated. He was the only one left, the only one still alive. His brother had given him his Comp, and he held it now and faced Lucifer and grinned, the tears running down his cheeks the only sign of how afraid he truly was.
I want to runaway,
give up on the hardships in front.
To wave the flag,
and claim defeat,
for I cannot win this war.
This war has battered me down,
and the white flag is hanging out my pocket.
I am ready to wave it,
running as fast as my legs can carry me.
I’m broken,
there is no option left yet but to retreat.
A squirrel flowing in the grass
peaks up and sees human feet,
jeaned legs climbing up into heat
and a head in the clouds,
so it turns tail and flees,
and in its lungs is the dust
of retreat
A squirrel flows, fluid, through the grass and looks up. Human feet, human legs, jeans running up to the tshirt so the head in the clouds. Slowly backs away. Turns tail and flees, the dust of retreat in its lungs.
I called a retreat. It was a cowardly idea, but I couldn’t bear the thought of killing… this thing. It used to be a perfect, lovely, compassionate man that held me softly and spoke to me kindly but… now it was a shadowy memory of what he used to be. Just a demon in his body. He’d become a vampire.
We have learned these war games like the insides of palms, lifelines and trajectories. Sometimes I look at you, and I am back in the sticky-soft spring, a thousand miles south of here, where you were young and your eyes like a thin haze over the sky. Battle plans in the tired curving of your shoulders and sea wind like kisses along my spine. I know your commands before they leave your throat. I can anticipate your movements. It is on days such as this one that I thank every god I don’t believe in for putting us on the same side.
Retreat is the word im seeing right now. Retreat my heart from your stupid baby childish shit. Protect it. Like the general that sees the battle is over. I have no other option than to retreat.
The women glanced forward at the edge of the Canadian cliff,
she glared at the pit-less depth that stood beneath her,
a deep gasp bellowed from the raw earth held her up,
air is thin, but love is thick,
she was blown back by her own breathe,
her Lakewood backward could not behoove her enough,
though her love retreated her!
retreat to a old memory.
There’s happiness.
I’m playing cards with my father
my three brothers are there
We are happy.
Retreat to an old memory.
My mom is crying.
I’m playing russian roulette with my life
No one is thankfully there.
At that moment after, none was happy.
it’s a little bit defeatist but i’ve convinced myself that being lonely because i’ve retreated into myself is better than being lonely despite being surrounded by so many people
Forest, river, diving in and water surrounding you, rushing into your ears, surrounding your senses, taking over and washing out everything, flooding out all sensation but the cold, lapping water against your skin, flooding your ears, your pores…like hearing the rain outside the window, drowning out any thought. Like when you plug your fingers in your ears and all you can hear is the blood rushing. Hearing the ocean in a shell is just this…solitude.
“Argh!” shouted Commander Gru and hefted his shield into the air.
The arrows flew from his bowmen’s longbows and crashed in a wave onto the enemy. Men toppled like ants below the wall, but kept coming. What a multitude of men! Never before had Gru seen so many all in one place, all with one purpose. It was harrowing and chilling.
A crack sounded where the enemy had been battering against their walls, and quick to follow was a bang and rumble that shook the walls themselves, leaving him and his men shaking.
The enemy bled through the broken doors, hacking women and soldiers apart in their haste to get to him, the commander. Shit.
“Retreat!” he called, though it went against everything he’d been taught.
I had no sense of retreat. I refused to face defeat… but, in my arrogance, I did not heed the cost. For it was not only my life on the line.
In fact, for her, it was so much worse.
retreat..would like a retreat from all this hustle..all this rushing..congestion..just want to have a quite place,bt then..quite places bring out the voices in me..they are more scary than the sounds sometimes..coz the voices tel me im not good enough..i am ugly..i am just not worth it
He needed to run as fast as his legs could withstand it, but his body refused and stubbornly remained glued to the seat. The meeting was about to start, but he still was as incapable as the first time he entered the office, or so he thought. Upon the arrival of the CEO, he pushed himself upwards and greeted the man with a casual and even charming smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. Deas.” He started, as the man shook his hand.
That was back when my love for her was untainted. When I could #retreat into her eyes without ravenous desire. When my hand over her heart was alive in her soul. When she felt the boundless enormity of the sky in my kiss. But it all fell apart…something went horribly wrong. #oneword @oznolem
I retreat into my shell when I’m in a bad place. I’m more like a turtle than a bird, with my big shell. Though I can’t swim, I CAN in fact blow up the best darn condom in the whole fucking world. Ya seen? That’s from a rap song you probably haven’t even heard yet (unless you are black or like rap or something, in which case you’re fucking weird).
it’s a bit late for these types of measures
i think we crystallized a little too early, and way too fast.
autocatalyzation or something fucked us up.
i think we could’ve been a part of something bigger,
but i think i’d rather be me,
apart.
“If we feign a retreat, we can lure them into the pass here,” she dug her knife point into the map for emphasis, “And their numbers will mean nothing,”
“That’s dishonorable conduct,” General Greaves bellowed, “It’s not sporting,”
“Do you think dying a more sporting pastime, general?” she drawled, fixing the aged warrior with a pointed look, “Because I certainly don’t,”
from what the back heel backwards the about face to turn the behind is better
“Retreat!” Yelled General Washington. After an exhausting battle of blood, grime, and sweat, the Confederate Army had lost. Again. I clenched my fist into a tight ball, imagining my fingers clutched around the sorry throat of a redcoat. The rebels will win, no matter how long it takes us. There’s no other choice.
All those hours of practice had paid off, the flashmob worked a treat! The dancers, the mariachi band, the jugglers; all were perfect! Even the llamas behaved themselves! But when I dropped down out of the Pinata, thrust the ring in front of her and asked her “to be my lifetime Amigo!”; then, only then did I realise it wasn’t my girlfriend standing behind the counter.
“Maria’s not here today?” I asked, wondering how I could retreat from this scenario with any shred of my dignity intact. The girl, whose nametag told me she liked to be called Lucy, was probably as embarrassed as I. “N-no, she called in sick today. . .”
The bravest of men will charge, fly head first into danger. But only the bravest of the brave will have the courage to retreat. To fall back, acknowledge they cannot continue. It is this self awareness that has saved so many lives, but the complete lack of it has caused so many unnecessary deaths and pain. Sometimes we need to retreat.
I wanted to write more, but it’s probably best I didn’t.
Cheech told us about his retreat. First we cut up some onions and peppers, then olive oil. then father Bernardi blesses them and we play cards. Oh, we say grace.
retreating back to the woods after a long night of running
running
running
from what?
just
ru
nn
in
g
running
what is one to do?
run
just run
retreat
retreating
retreating
ret
reat
ing
retreating.
This was my retreat. Whenever I was here, well, it was not that nothing else mattered – it was that nothing else could find me, and I could wait, think, until I could face it all again. This was less a place, than a state of being.
A state of being wherein my family thought I had disappeared off the face of the earth, because they could not see me anywhere.
to retreat is to escape
the worries, the lies
to find comfort
in that which does not exist.
we look for retreat because
we crave stability
and with out that anchor
we will sink.
Escape reality.
you retreat to a place of happiness, fidelity, a place where nothing can go wrong and everything goes right. But what is wrong and what is right? What if the line between was blurred and the retreat that everyone so desperately looks to escape to is nothing but a nightmare. The fantasy that never came to,
the arc of my spear-throwing hand stopped midway through it’s path. through my eyes, i saw hellfire and ruin. my hands were black with the ash of it. it filled my lungs. i blinked and felt the breaths of my own soldiers, the enemy’s soldiers. blinking again, i turned around. i tore a patch from my shirt, called my men to a halt. swept the rag around my spear, waved it to the enemy. saw it mirrored on the other side.
the dragon lowered his golden head and stepped backwards. the maiden followed him into the cave. inside, gold coins littered the entrance, but in the center of an elaborate fixture was a ruby chain.
retreat is thing and thing is retreat
When she kissed him, he hesitated at first but then allowed himself to be taken away by the softness of her lips, until he remembered who’s bedroom she had been in a few days before.
I hear them screaming at as to run. The terror is flashing in their eyes darkly. They shriek, “run!” but what can we do now when the enemy is nearly upon us, when we have nothing to run to?
Retreat is a sign of surrender. A sign that you’ve given up. If you retreat, you are saying that you physically and mentally cannot complete the task you are given and that is one of the saddest things to hear and to experience.
I will retreat when I hear the drums. I will hide myself in a pile of leaves. The autumn wind will carry me away before the troops can get to me. I will climb my way up a redwood tree, and I’ll be a part of the seasonal breeze. There will be rainclouds above and hellfire below, but I’ll find equilibrium that the generals won’t know.
its a form of wisdom, not always defeat. most things were won in retreat. You tire out the enemy, hoping they will stop, and then that is when you attack. retreat is important, and never should be frowned upon.
They had been utterly defeated. He was the only one left, the only one still alive. His brother had given him his Comp, and he held it now and faced Lucifer and grinned, the tears running down his cheeks the only sign of how afraid he truly was.
oh for a vacation–a retreat of the soul–a way to refresh and relax —find yourself again amid this busy world around ==quiet times and lovely times–
Being one to think about your life. To get away for the rush of life.
I want to runaway,
give up on the hardships in front.
To wave the flag,
and claim defeat,
for I cannot win this war.
This war has battered me down,
and the white flag is hanging out my pocket.
I am ready to wave it,
running as fast as my legs can carry me.
I’m broken,
there is no option left yet but to retreat.
A squirrel flowing in the grass
peaks up and sees human feet,
jeaned legs climbing up into heat
and a head in the clouds,
so it turns tail and flees,
and in its lungs is the dust
of retreat
A squirrel flows, fluid, through the grass and looks up. Human feet, human legs, jeans running up to the tshirt so the head in the clouds. Slowly backs away. Turns tail and flees, the dust of retreat in its lungs.
I called a retreat. It was a cowardly idea, but I couldn’t bear the thought of killing… this thing. It used to be a perfect, lovely, compassionate man that held me softly and spoke to me kindly but… now it was a shadowy memory of what he used to be. Just a demon in his body. He’d become a vampire.
We have learned these war games like the insides of palms, lifelines and trajectories. Sometimes I look at you, and I am back in the sticky-soft spring, a thousand miles south of here, where you were young and your eyes like a thin haze over the sky. Battle plans in the tired curving of your shoulders and sea wind like kisses along my spine. I know your commands before they leave your throat. I can anticipate your movements. It is on days such as this one that I thank every god I don’t believe in for putting us on the same side.
Retreat is the word im seeing right now. Retreat my heart from your stupid baby childish shit. Protect it. Like the general that sees the battle is over. I have no other option than to retreat.
The women glanced forward at the edge of the Canadian cliff,
she glared at the pit-less depth that stood beneath her,
a deep gasp bellowed from the raw earth held her up,
air is thin, but love is thick,
she was blown back by her own breathe,
her Lakewood backward could not behoove her enough,
though her love retreated her!
retreat to a old memory.
There’s happiness.
I’m playing cards with my father
my three brothers are there
We are happy.
Retreat to an old memory.
My mom is crying.
I’m playing russian roulette with my life
No one is thankfully there.
At that moment after, none was happy.
theres retreat in going to the playground. breathing. imagining the universe
zooming out
breathing out