The waves come crashing ashore.
Sea foam, friction-less, feet away.
But it never reaches me, for it knows I can no longer love it.
The water can no longer heal.
I can no longer breathe in its seaweed depths.
Midnight blue, starless, feet below.
I am now a city boy, an outcast, a bastard.
I have adapted.
he was crazy about the girl that stood in front of him. He wanted to be here everything. If that meant that he adapted to her world through coercion, he would. Hoe would do what it took to be her world
adapted reminds me of evolution. How creatures cope. How does anyone cope. The relationship between adatoped and adopted. They are both about picking things up in a way, changing youself. becoming something differen
he adapted to his scenery from time to time; he always liked change. but he never got too attached, even when he wanted to. when asked why, he would always reply with, “if they tell me the bad things can’t last forever, it’s not fair if I get to keep the good things forever.”
Tumbling, stumbling, rising from ashes. This place we used to call home, our cash hidden in the walls, the things in our lives that looked like they mattered, we’re breathing them in now with the rest of the soot.
“I’ve been here for almost a year, and I still haven’t adapted to your culture,” I tell him, biting my lip. “Too accustomed to American stuff, I guess.”
He shrugs, and flashes me a smile. “You’ll get the hang of it soon, kid.”
Although they were happy to be on holiday they were concerned that they may not be settled in their hotel. However, after the first week they had adapted to their new surroundings.
It took me by surprise. Sometimes life is staring you in the face, which is still easy enough to ignore. We do it to humans asking for help everyday. Then sometimes it’s slapping you in the face. Harder to ignore, but still doable. Then one day you wake up and it’s everywhere. Your coffee, the trees, the postman, the checkout clerk. Everyone is saying the same thing. Wake up.
She adapted a new accent as she made home in London. In fact, this transformation has only needed a day to establish itself. I’m a Londoner now, she thought to herself.
Life is full of challenges. Things can change in a heartbeat and I need to change along with them. If I keep doing things the same way I’ve been doing, I’ll never grow and move forward in life. I need to adapt to my surroundings while still staying true to myself.
He wanted to know the secrets. Why, and where, they had come from. He had always known the methodology, the practice and the effect, even the end…but the origin. That was what fascinated him. He wanted to understand his own fascination with this text. This was the only weighing factor on his endeavours, his unrelenting, vivacious curiosity with the obscure book, and his grim obsessions with why we do the things we do…he had adapted to fit the characters, to live as they did, all to adopt a beginning to his own motives, the kind performed in the middle of the night, vicariously seeing through devils’ eyes.
A lot of animals have been adapted in new places, but not all of them have adapted well. Sometimes I have to be adapted to some situations I do not like.
They’ve adapted. We’re on the run, now. All our defenses turning to dust–literally. Now that the plants have turned photosynthesis into a weapon of destruction, and they’ve mobilized, we’ve nowhere to go, except to the mountains.
Up the rocks, past deadly lichen. Avoiding murderous stunted pines. Up, up. It’s the only way to hide.
The secrets of the book had always fascinated him. He wanted to learn about the origin, but could only find the methodology, and perhaps, the grim results. “Why did this happen?” was the one question constantly lingering in his forethoughts, but behind, he knew worse. The only reason these things were happening were because of him, his incessant obsession, his vicarious nature…his unrelenting adaption of the book’s events were both the origin, and his end.
Adapted, they said you should become, very much as everyone else. Adapt and obey, become a part of flow and neygh when i say. Don’t stand out, don’t feel special at all. Adapt and obey and then all will be OK. Same words I am hearing every day, and it makes me sick, to adapt is to fail.
I look around. Doesn’t seem like anyone can see me. Good. I am able to leave with nobody noticing the bloody footsteps I have always left on the ground. How should they anyway? It’s not like anyone wants to see ghosts.
adapted sounds like adopted and i feel like they’re very similar things. like, to be adopted must be a terrible thing to begin with; to feel like a fish out of water, for lack of a better corny phrase. but like all animals, we must adapt to our environment, survival of the fittest right?
The exam that I’ve realised yesterday. It was adapted. It’s better because if the exam isn’t adapted, I won’t pass. I hope that the next exam will be adapted.
I sat in my chair, not quite sure what to think. My stomach ached with the last bit of acid reflux from the spoiled food I’d eaten this morning. In the centre of the room was him. His hair was dark, matte with blood. What the hell had happened? My heart was pounding so hard my throat began to tingle. I wanted to scream. It was my first day in this shit-hole of a town, my mother had warned me the most important thing is to get used to a new situation, it’s also possibly the hardest but she hadn’t said a word about that. Is this how I was planning to adapt?
Sarah unearthed herself. She shook off the dirt, the worms, the musty weight that had buried her and she resolved to fly. Yes that was her word. Fly. She filled her lungs with air and light which felt necessary, then adapted her daily routine to her new way of thinking. Sarah was looking up. She was surrounded by blue sky and optimism and it was going to cause quite a few problems for Oliver Hardy.
They adapted until there was nothing left about them that was human. I didn’t recognize the beings standing in front of me, they weren’t my friend. They weren’t my enemies. They weren’t anything to me. But they saw me as their enemy, and for that, I was about to die.
It was time that I adapted.
He had adapted to life in the city rather well, he thought. Four summers ago he could not have found his way around as easily as he could now. At first it was difficult, without the stars to guide him, but he was now navigating by other landmarks, and Tommy the Rat was just as much at home in these sewers as he had been in the fields and forests of his childhood.
he adapted to the light, eyes burning and heart pounding. the cave behind him held mal in all his fury and whatever that vicious reptile was. they’d duke it out, and yates didn’t want to be anywhere near this place once they were done; the victory would surely kill him.
I will have to learn to adapt my picking style in a way that doesn’t involve blisters. I can’t believe it, I don’t think I was hitting the strings that hard. And yet here I have a blister on my thumb. Every press of the space bar confirms it. Slow burning in search of coolness to alleviate the ache.
i could not adapt to the ghosts catching flames in your eyes
i did not move quickly enough when i realized we
were earth
quaking
and shaking at our roots
this house is falling apart
and i don’t have time to save the fur coats
The world around them had adapted to the post apocalyptic world. Buildings remained in ruins but with little cubbyholes as homes. Blankets were used as doors and children played with wrecked car parts.
I adapted to your calls that never came anymore
the texts that never were sent
the smiles I received
the love that was passed
we laughed
shared jokes and secrets bewteen
played little games
communicated through glances
sometimes they were longer; admiring stares that I wouldn’t limit myself to
and it was amazing
until you didn’t anymore
then I had to adapt
because I can’t be lying to myself; it’s a one-way love
Come together and be as
one, a oneness that’s all
together in the same
light and color
changed to be what the
other defines and worked into
the patterns of similar sight
I once saw a movie it was the mot horrible experience of my life, it was nothing like the movie, i wish i had just spent the money on buying th book twice than writing my own screen play. i feel< although it would not hav been as good it would have at least been factual to th origninal literature.
We had adapted to the hot bayou in a matter of weeks. We wore boots with soles as thick as tire rubber so we could navigate the deep, sticky swamps more easily. When we fished, we used large bait and prepared ourselves to wrestle with monsters. At night, when the heat didn’t cease, we aimed our tent flaps to the closest, smallest breeze, just so the fluttering of canvas cooled us down enough so we could finally go to sleep.
My life has changed and so have i.
Every thing has disappeared at the blink of an eye.
I have adapted to a new way of life.
I have had victory despite my strife.
Thank You
She adapted quickly to her new circumstances. She remembered back to when she woke from the anesthesia and first notice her leg was gone. She thought at that moment I’m a cripple I will never be able to run or dance again. People will stare at me or worse yet turn away. Now here she was standing at the starting line of the race. She may not win, but she was a competitor. nothing was going to stop her. She had no fear as she got into position.. She waiting patiently to hear the gun fire to start the race. This was her life she was claiming it back. No one would ever feel sorry for her.
you don’t have to adapt yourself to the world around you. Keep being yourself, don’t change, you are loved the way you are. That way, instead of you adapting to people, they are the ones going to get adapted to you. You are special. The end.
She won’t let it happen naturally. I’m sure she has her reasons, but I’m getting the fuck out. I know what to do. She always eats too much and winds up asleep in front of the tv on the nights she comes home already tired from work. But when she caught me once when I dropped my fucking phone on the way out the basement door, I had to get creative.
I didn’t know how to be Mexican .
I had no idea until I was six that these mysterious brown people were actually blood relatives.
I grew up where the fridge was an “ice-box” and northerners were “Yankees”
These people grew up barefoot in the sands of Sonoran desert, ate chile and green corn tamales,
And yet, I fell into them as smoothly as the howl of desert coyotes and the flow of monsoons,
And I adapted.
The waves come crashing ashore.
Sea foam, friction-less, feet away.
But it never reaches me, for it knows I can no longer love it.
The water can no longer heal.
I can no longer breathe in its seaweed depths.
Midnight blue, starless, feet below.
I am now a city boy, an outcast, a bastard.
I have adapted.
he was crazy about the girl that stood in front of him. He wanted to be here everything. If that meant that he adapted to her world through coercion, he would. Hoe would do what it took to be her world
adapted reminds me of evolution. How creatures cope. How does anyone cope. The relationship between adatoped and adopted. They are both about picking things up in a way, changing youself. becoming something differen
he adapted to his scenery from time to time; he always liked change. but he never got too attached, even when he wanted to. when asked why, he would always reply with, “if they tell me the bad things can’t last forever, it’s not fair if I get to keep the good things forever.”
Tumbling, stumbling, rising from ashes. This place we used to call home, our cash hidden in the walls, the things in our lives that looked like they mattered, we’re breathing them in now with the rest of the soot.
“I’ve been here for almost a year, and I still haven’t adapted to your culture,” I tell him, biting my lip. “Too accustomed to American stuff, I guess.”
He shrugs, and flashes me a smile. “You’ll get the hang of it soon, kid.”
“I hope so.” I smile back.
Although they were happy to be on holiday they were concerned that they may not be settled in their hotel. However, after the first week they had adapted to their new surroundings.
after a week on the planet we got used to the sheer unpredictability of our circumstances. we knew when to seek shelter in the shadows
It took me by surprise. Sometimes life is staring you in the face, which is still easy enough to ignore. We do it to humans asking for help everyday. Then sometimes it’s slapping you in the face. Harder to ignore, but still doable. Then one day you wake up and it’s everywhere. Your coffee, the trees, the postman, the checkout clerk. Everyone is saying the same thing. Wake up.
She had adapted well to the soldierly life: the precise routine and the taking of orders gave both structure and limits to her aimless existence.
She adapted a new accent as she made home in London. In fact, this transformation has only needed a day to establish itself. I’m a Londoner now, she thought to herself.
Life is full of challenges. Things can change in a heartbeat and I need to change along with them. If I keep doing things the same way I’ve been doing, I’ll never grow and move forward in life. I need to adapt to my surroundings while still staying true to myself.
He wanted to know the secrets. Why, and where, they had come from. He had always known the methodology, the practice and the effect, even the end…but the origin. That was what fascinated him. He wanted to understand his own fascination with this text. This was the only weighing factor on his endeavours, his unrelenting, vivacious curiosity with the obscure book, and his grim obsessions with why we do the things we do…he had adapted to fit the characters, to live as they did, all to adopt a beginning to his own motives, the kind performed in the middle of the night, vicariously seeing through devils’ eyes.
A lot of animals have been adapted in new places, but not all of them have adapted well. Sometimes I have to be adapted to some situations I do not like.
They’ve adapted. We’re on the run, now. All our defenses turning to dust–literally. Now that the plants have turned photosynthesis into a weapon of destruction, and they’ve mobilized, we’ve nowhere to go, except to the mountains.
Up the rocks, past deadly lichen. Avoiding murderous stunted pines. Up, up. It’s the only way to hide.
Closer to the sun, though…
The secrets of the book had always fascinated him. He wanted to learn about the origin, but could only find the methodology, and perhaps, the grim results. “Why did this happen?” was the one question constantly lingering in his forethoughts, but behind, he knew worse. The only reason these things were happening were because of him, his incessant obsession, his vicarious nature…his unrelenting adaption of the book’s events were both the origin, and his end.
Adapted, they said you should become, very much as everyone else. Adapt and obey, become a part of flow and neygh when i say. Don’t stand out, don’t feel special at all. Adapt and obey and then all will be OK. Same words I am hearing every day, and it makes me sick, to adapt is to fail.
I look around. Doesn’t seem like anyone can see me. Good. I am able to leave with nobody noticing the bloody footsteps I have always left on the ground. How should they anyway? It’s not like anyone wants to see ghosts.
adapted sounds like adopted and i feel like they’re very similar things. like, to be adopted must be a terrible thing to begin with; to feel like a fish out of water, for lack of a better corny phrase. but like all animals, we must adapt to our environment, survival of the fittest right?
The exam that I’ve realised yesterday. It was adapted. It’s better because if the exam isn’t adapted, I won’t pass. I hope that the next exam will be adapted.
I sat in my chair, not quite sure what to think. My stomach ached with the last bit of acid reflux from the spoiled food I’d eaten this morning. In the centre of the room was him. His hair was dark, matte with blood. What the hell had happened? My heart was pounding so hard my throat began to tingle. I wanted to scream. It was my first day in this shit-hole of a town, my mother had warned me the most important thing is to get used to a new situation, it’s also possibly the hardest but she hadn’t said a word about that. Is this how I was planning to adapt?
Sarah unearthed herself. She shook off the dirt, the worms, the musty weight that had buried her and she resolved to fly. Yes that was her word. Fly. She filled her lungs with air and light which felt necessary, then adapted her daily routine to her new way of thinking. Sarah was looking up. She was surrounded by blue sky and optimism and it was going to cause quite a few problems for Oliver Hardy.
They adapted until there was nothing left about them that was human. I didn’t recognize the beings standing in front of me, they weren’t my friend. They weren’t my enemies. They weren’t anything to me. But they saw me as their enemy, and for that, I was about to die.
It was time that I adapted.
He had adapted to life in the city rather well, he thought. Four summers ago he could not have found his way around as easily as he could now. At first it was difficult, without the stars to guide him, but he was now navigating by other landmarks, and Tommy the Rat was just as much at home in these sewers as he had been in the fields and forests of his childhood.
he adapted to the light, eyes burning and heart pounding. the cave behind him held mal in all his fury and whatever that vicious reptile was. they’d duke it out, and yates didn’t want to be anywhere near this place once they were done; the victory would surely kill him.
I will have to learn to adapt my picking style in a way that doesn’t involve blisters. I can’t believe it, I don’t think I was hitting the strings that hard. And yet here I have a blister on my thumb. Every press of the space bar confirms it. Slow burning in search of coolness to alleviate the ache.
i could not adapt to the ghosts catching flames in your eyes
i did not move quickly enough when i realized we
were earth
quaking
and shaking at our roots
this house is falling apart
and i don’t have time to save the fur coats
The world around them had adapted to the post apocalyptic world. Buildings remained in ruins but with little cubbyholes as homes. Blankets were used as doors and children played with wrecked car parts.
I adapted to your calls that never came anymore
the texts that never were sent
the smiles I received
the love that was passed
we laughed
shared jokes and secrets bewteen
played little games
communicated through glances
sometimes they were longer; admiring stares that I wouldn’t limit myself to
and it was amazing
until you didn’t anymore
then I had to adapt
because I can’t be lying to myself; it’s a one-way love
Well shit. It’s taken my a considerable amount of time to have adapted to this strange new lifestyle.
Come together and be as
one, a oneness that’s all
together in the same
light and color
changed to be what the
other defines and worked into
the patterns of similar sight
I once saw a movie it was the mot horrible experience of my life, it was nothing like the movie, i wish i had just spent the money on buying th book twice than writing my own screen play. i feel< although it would not hav been as good it would have at least been factual to th origninal literature.
We had adapted to the hot bayou in a matter of weeks. We wore boots with soles as thick as tire rubber so we could navigate the deep, sticky swamps more easily. When we fished, we used large bait and prepared ourselves to wrestle with monsters. At night, when the heat didn’t cease, we aimed our tent flaps to the closest, smallest breeze, just so the fluttering of canvas cooled us down enough so we could finally go to sleep.
you make me a maniac
my branches quiver every time your wind comes by
adapter have adapted to you
everything you say is poetry
My life has changed and so have i.
Every thing has disappeared at the blink of an eye.
I have adapted to a new way of life.
I have had victory despite my strife.
Thank You
I adapted your beautiful ways. Now I am one with you, forever and ever a day.
She adapted quickly to her new circumstances. She remembered back to when she woke from the anesthesia and first notice her leg was gone. She thought at that moment I’m a cripple I will never be able to run or dance again. People will stare at me or worse yet turn away. Now here she was standing at the starting line of the race. She may not win, but she was a competitor. nothing was going to stop her. She had no fear as she got into position.. She waiting patiently to hear the gun fire to start the race. This was her life she was claiming it back. No one would ever feel sorry for her.
you don’t have to adapt yourself to the world around you. Keep being yourself, don’t change, you are loved the way you are. That way, instead of you adapting to people, they are the ones going to get adapted to you. You are special. The end.
She won’t let it happen naturally. I’m sure she has her reasons, but I’m getting the fuck out. I know what to do. She always eats too much and winds up asleep in front of the tv on the nights she comes home already tired from work. But when she caught me once when I dropped my fucking phone on the way out the basement door, I had to get creative.
I didn’t know how to be Mexican .
I had no idea until I was six that these mysterious brown people were actually blood relatives.
I grew up where the fridge was an “ice-box” and northerners were “Yankees”
These people grew up barefoot in the sands of Sonoran desert, ate chile and green corn tamales,
And yet, I fell into them as smoothly as the howl of desert coyotes and the flow of monsoons,
And I adapted.