I love being wrapped up with the one I love. Never having to move…but free to move if I want to. being wrapped with another person is the best feeling in the world…a feeling more complete than I ever feel when I am alone.
I love being wrapped up with the one I love. Never having to move…but free to move if I want to. being wrapped with another person is the best feeling in the world…a feeling more complete than I ever feel when I am alone.
I swerve around the corner, scuffed shoes. Dirty Laces. Head bobbing in the Night. No longer to the music. But to echoes of the the night I just had, the mistakes I’ve made. A street light buzzing in the air. Pale light attracting clouds of moths casting darting shadows on the amber sidewalk, tiny black dancers.
I’ve been so wrapped up in my own thoughts, that it has helped to write things down. That way, doing a particular thing isn’t so debated… it just “is”. Productivity is the topic of my thoughts today.
Wrapped up in himself – that’s the problem, I said.
Him? she cried. “What about you? I’ve never met anyone who is so trapped in their own head as you.”
I didn’t answer for a long minute, wondering and watching her expression for some meaning behind what she’d just said to me – what was she really trying to say about me?
in cellophane and gleaming gold, i found them today. a small sweet piece of my childhood, treats from my grandmother’s house that used to slip accidentally down our throats and scare us but that never kept our hands out of the candy jar. these aren’t the cheap, corn-syrup ones, but the real brach’s butterscotch wrapped snugly in yellow paper.
Such thoughts flow through this being
trapped among the tides of a new day
a presence lingers far too long
desperate for another look
at life itself
wrapped up in metaphors
and monologues.
such ease this life can be
yet all that is mirrored
when gazed upon
is the face of uncertainty
yet when things
when they seem so bleak
can push through the darkness
push through the insecurities
and lifted the weight of standards.
and the sky weeps for those
who are in pain from these lands
and yet the sun shall smile through
and warm the skin again.
My gift was there. It was wrapped. Wrapped in the most beautiful papel I’ve ever seen. But my life was dark. Papa was not with me. My gift was there, wrapped in beautiful paper, and I was there, desiring a bigger gift: Having daddy one more time
And yet she still faced some hurdles. She would have to adjust to a new way of life, no longer wrapped up in the cocoon in which her fake father had kept her captive. She would have to make a new life for herself, new friends, new challenges.
let’s get this all wrapped up
right now
I’ve been wondering how
you do what you do
your thing is new
let’s get this all wrapped up
I must
I’ve been brimming with lust
because you are you
you make me undo
Lost in a world, filled with the fatal gases of suffocation. The warm, yet attractive grasp ensnares it’s victims, only then revealing its smothering nature. The harsh climate of reality lingers in the backs of it’s patient’s minds, slowly creeping forward to the decent in the ground. 6 feet under.
I pull the sheets closer, my secret safehold — tightly rolled round my body and head. The only light that comes through is soft, muted. The only air is warmed. I am safe, I am warm, I am comfortable, I chant.
The gift of life is wrapped
Please use caution when unraveling
Rip the layers too quickly runs a risk of sharp tears
Fragile and torn, life has been victimized
But what does it matter if layers are damaged?
Those pieces are left crumpled and thrown away anyways
And there’s no point in rewrapping, the paper will never be its crisp self
Life should not be thrown away
Take care of those layers
She wrapped the wound tightly, praying for the best. They were hundreds of miles away from the next town and there wasn’t a single bar on her cell phone. Her daughter whimpered softly beneath her and tears fell from her cheeks. This was hopeless, utterly hopeless.
Wrapped in the cellophane, thinking about the pain of trying to fix the drain, I stare into the hole. How did I find myself in this predicament? Things were going so well just washing the dishes. Why did I decide to take out the saran wrap anyway? Was I trying to put some food away? Sigh. I guess I’ll be stuck here for awhile.
The wrapped box of life never goes untangled. Please unravel carefully. Yank the frail layers and there’s a risk of causing a tear. But that doesn’t matter, those pieces are just left crumpled up on the side to be thrown away anyways. Fuck life.
The turkey was wrapped tightly in the ham and cheese in preparation of Father’s homecoming. It was, according to Mother, his favorite snack and something that he had personally requested her to make when he returned. She told me this in such a way that I knew there was something that I wasn’t getting–that I couldn’t get without further information–about his choice that Mother wasn’t telling me, but I didn’t care. I had never been close to him; he had always been so distant and far away with me (though he was, according to Johnathan, much warmer with his sons) that I had eventually chosen to act the same with him.
Tightly woven in time
the essence of all beings
surpassed only by natural beauty
to astonishing for words
yet play around on my lips
wrapped up in my cerebellum
infused with what it means to be
be alive in such a world
where perspective lies within ones self
to understand certainty
that this life is not just a riddle
but yet reasoning for why
why things are how they are
answers are questions
and questions are answers.
She was wrapped in nothingness. She felt lost. Lost in a sea of monsters that would soon turn on her and rips her body parts apart until they reached her organs. She felt empty inside without him.
I like my burritos wrapped tight,
just like my weed.
Wrap me tight in your arms girl,
you’re all that i need.
I’ll do the same,
after all, we’re all wrapped in different covers,
but have the same types of feelings.
She wrapped herself in a warm blanket and stared at the fire longingly. She could feel the warmth his lips left on her neck, the warmth his fingers left on his hips. She could still feel his presence in the room
I wrapped the yarn around my finger absentmindedly. I wondered what she was doing right now. Was she thinking of home? Was she lonely? Did she miss me? I thought back through 18 years of memories…
Warm and content, that was the current status of the beast in question, wrapped up against the harsh realities of the outside world, enveloped in the most carnal of warmths. Slippy Slippy slide slide
Tightly, like string around my purple fingers;
traced around every appendage like it deserves to be there.
You are in bows surrounding me,
and I am loose knit, but comfortably dressing you,
caressing you,
and enjoying every inch.
You are the string around my pinky.
I am the the hand that holds you there.
You had me wrapped around your little finger. I had unwrapped myself thinking that is what I want. Now I find myself trying to make you wrap me up again.
wrapped up in my blanket of thoughts, of worries, hopes, and dreams. . . some days it keeps me warm. other days it feels like they’re smothering me, and I’ll succumb to it
Wrapped around your finger,
like a tightly wound string,
you pull me in every direction,
wherever you want to go,
I follow,
hopelessly,
unknowingly,
into the dark,
into the light,
no matter.
I follow you.
Wrapped around your finger,
like a tightly wound string,
you pull me every which way you want to go,
and I follow,
hopelessly,
unknowingly,
into the dark,
into the light,
no matter.
I follow you.
I love being wrapped up with the one I love. Never having to move…but free to move if I want to. being wrapped with another person is the best feeling in the world…a feeling more complete than I ever feel when I am alone.
I love being wrapped up with the one I love. Never having to move…but free to move if I want to. being wrapped with another person is the best feeling in the world…a feeling more complete than I ever feel when I am alone.
I swerve around the corner, scuffed shoes. Dirty Laces. Head bobbing in the Night. No longer to the music. But to echoes of the the night I just had, the mistakes I’ve made. A street light buzzing in the air. Pale light attracting clouds of moths casting darting shadows on the amber sidewalk, tiny black dancers.
I’ve been so wrapped up in my own thoughts, that it has helped to write things down. That way, doing a particular thing isn’t so debated… it just “is”. Productivity is the topic of my thoughts today.
Wrapped up in himself – that’s the problem, I said.
Him? she cried. “What about you? I’ve never met anyone who is so trapped in their own head as you.”
I didn’t answer for a long minute, wondering and watching her expression for some meaning behind what she’d just said to me – what was she really trying to say about me?
in cellophane and gleaming gold, i found them today. a small sweet piece of my childhood, treats from my grandmother’s house that used to slip accidentally down our throats and scare us but that never kept our hands out of the candy jar. these aren’t the cheap, corn-syrup ones, but the real brach’s butterscotch wrapped snugly in yellow paper.
Such thoughts flow through this being
trapped among the tides of a new day
a presence lingers far too long
desperate for another look
at life itself
wrapped up in metaphors
and monologues.
such ease this life can be
yet all that is mirrored
when gazed upon
is the face of uncertainty
yet when things
when they seem so bleak
can push through the darkness
push through the insecurities
and lifted the weight of standards.
and the sky weeps for those
who are in pain from these lands
and yet the sun shall smile through
and warm the skin again.
My gift was there. It was wrapped. Wrapped in the most beautiful papel I’ve ever seen. But my life was dark. Papa was not with me. My gift was there, wrapped in beautiful paper, and I was there, desiring a bigger gift: Having daddy one more time
My heart is wrapped in rose petals
There are paint spots on my skin
There’s no magic on my outside
But I know there’s some within.
My lungs are full of breezes
There’s glitter in my blood
I have fireworks on my insides
While my outside is covered in mud.
My teeth are crooked
My skin is pallid
My hair is poorly dyed
But I have all kinds of beauty
Way deep down inside.
My stomach is full of butterflies
My bones are made of trees
On the outside I’m plain and quite dull,
But I’m quite beautiful where no one can see.
And yet she still faced some hurdles. She would have to adjust to a new way of life, no longer wrapped up in the cocoon in which her fake father had kept her captive. She would have to make a new life for herself, new friends, new challenges.
ugh,
*squeak* *squeak* *squeak* *squeak*
This wrapper is hurting my ears… :'(
let’s get this all wrapped up
right now
I’ve been wondering how
you do what you do
your thing is new
let’s get this all wrapped up
I must
I’ve been brimming with lust
because you are you
you make me undo
i think of nice shiny preasents at christmas that you tear open wondering whats inside your heart is full of joy and you
She wrapped herself in the skin of the people she slaughtered. The lone wolf longed to not be lonely.
Lost in a world, filled with the fatal gases of suffocation. The warm, yet attractive grasp ensnares it’s victims, only then revealing its smothering nature. The harsh climate of reality lingers in the backs of it’s patient’s minds, slowly creeping forward to the decent in the ground. 6 feet under.
THis is what I learned to do when I had treatment for cancer and lost all my hair and started to wrap my head with scarves and hats in various styles.
THat was a good thing to learn.
I pull the sheets closer, my secret safehold — tightly rolled round my body and head. The only light that comes through is soft, muted. The only air is warmed. I am safe, I am warm, I am comfortable, I chant.
The gift of life is wrapped
Please use caution when unraveling
Rip the layers too quickly runs a risk of sharp tears
Fragile and torn, life has been victimized
But what does it matter if layers are damaged?
Those pieces are left crumpled and thrown away anyways
And there’s no point in rewrapping, the paper will never be its crisp self
Life should not be thrown away
Take care of those layers
She wrapped the wound tightly, praying for the best. They were hundreds of miles away from the next town and there wasn’t a single bar on her cell phone. Her daughter whimpered softly beneath her and tears fell from her cheeks. This was hopeless, utterly hopeless.
Wrapped in the cellophane, thinking about the pain of trying to fix the drain, I stare into the hole. How did I find myself in this predicament? Things were going so well just washing the dishes. Why did I decide to take out the saran wrap anyway? Was I trying to put some food away? Sigh. I guess I’ll be stuck here for awhile.
The wrapped box of life never goes untangled. Please unravel carefully. Yank the frail layers and there’s a risk of causing a tear. But that doesn’t matter, those pieces are just left crumpled up on the side to be thrown away anyways. Fuck life.
The wrapped box of life never goes untangled. Please unravel carefully.
The turkey was wrapped tightly in the ham and cheese in preparation of Father’s homecoming. It was, according to Mother, his favorite snack and something that he had personally requested her to make when he returned. She told me this in such a way that I knew there was something that I wasn’t getting–that I couldn’t get without further information–about his choice that Mother wasn’t telling me, but I didn’t care. I had never been close to him; he had always been so distant and far away with me (though he was, according to Johnathan, much warmer with his sons) that I had eventually chosen to act the same with him.
wrapped up in worries, lies, hopes, dreams. . . this cover has a beginning, but no ends. . . feels like I will suffocate some days
Tightly woven in time
the essence of all beings
surpassed only by natural beauty
to astonishing for words
yet play around on my lips
wrapped up in my cerebellum
infused with what it means to be
be alive in such a world
where perspective lies within ones self
to understand certainty
that this life is not just a riddle
but yet reasoning for why
why things are how they are
answers are questions
and questions are answers.
She was wrapped in nothingness. She felt lost. Lost in a sea of monsters that would soon turn on her and rips her body parts apart until they reached her organs. She felt empty inside without him.
I like my burritos wrapped tight,
just like my weed.
Wrap me tight in your arms girl,
you’re all that i need.
I’ll do the same,
after all, we’re all wrapped in different covers,
but have the same types of feelings.
She wrapped herself in a warm blanket and stared at the fire longingly. She could feel the warmth his lips left on her neck, the warmth his fingers left on his hips. She could still feel his presence in the room
I wrapped the yarn around my finger absentmindedly. I wondered what she was doing right now. Was she thinking of home? Was she lonely? Did she miss me? I thought back through 18 years of memories…
Warm and content, that was the current status of the beast in question, wrapped up against the harsh realities of the outside world, enveloped in the most carnal of warmths. Slippy Slippy slide slide
Tightly, like string around my purple fingers;
traced around every appendage like it deserves to be there.
You are in bows surrounding me,
and I am loose knit, but comfortably dressing you,
caressing you,
and enjoying every inch.
You are the string around my pinky.
I am the the hand that holds you there.
envolta em mistérios, desceu a rua até a esquina com a avenida principal. tomou o ônibus, sabendo que seria procurada. riu por dentro.
You had me wrapped around your little finger. I had unwrapped myself thinking that is what I want. Now I find myself trying to make you wrap me up again.
a sweet embrace within your arms, don’t ever let me go
wrapped up in my blanket of thoughts, of worries, hopes, and dreams. . . some days it keeps me warm. other days it feels like they’re smothering me, and I’ll succumb to it
Wrapped around your finger,
like a tightly wound string,
you pull me in every direction,
wherever you want to go,
I follow,
hopelessly,
unknowingly,
into the dark,
into the light,
no matter.
I follow you.
Wrapped around your finger,
like a tightly wound string,
you pull me every which way you want to go,
and I follow,
hopelessly,
unknowingly,
into the dark,
into the light,
no matter.
I follow you.
So he wrapped her up in his skin to shield her from herself
he wrapped her in words and kisses
and promises of a better tomorrow
I’m wrapping myself around my skull. Receding. Safely. Escaping quietly, away from this, from you, your breath, your choking scent.
Wrapped up in the shit
that is family
Not the sweet of it
kids with dirty knees
and love thrown around
freely.
But in the other stuff ~
the shit.