Desolate. Sad….horrifying.
Not able to produce….
not-fruitful.
Depressing.
Sometimes beautiful – like a desert.
Horrifying beautiful.
A wasteland of…pure amazing.
Or…sometimes…the worst thing that could ever be seen or could ever happen.
Nothing.
a wasteland between me and my memories, as i walk down the path of my life, look back, in distant hills i see the cat i once knew, the dances i once danced, and you have stopped walking with me…you are standing at a tree…and then…you turn and go down a different path and i want to go back but i live in a nintendo platform game where i can only move forward. every step counts. don’t fall.
Alone, deserted. A space which holds nothing, a hollow emptiness. No joy to be found. A lifeless place. A space where nothing exists. Loss. Confusion. Lacking in the finer things. Flat. Two dimensional. Undiscovered.
Her mind was barren. Empty of all thoughts, of all opinions, of all possible reactions. She could not conjure up any words to form a decent response to the lingering question.
desert and home and lost love perhaps a barren heart and soul after something importants been lost. its sad with no hope no salvation. someone needs to bring the rain soon to help
desert and home and lost love perhaps a barren heart and soul after something importants been lost. its sad with no hope no salvation. someone needs to bring the rain soon to help
desert and home and lost love perhaps a barren heart and soul after something importants been lost. its sad with no hope no salvation. someone needs to bring the rain soon to help
desert and home and lost love perhaps a barren heart and soul after something importants been lost. its sad with no hope no salvation. someone needs to bring the rain soon to help
desert and home and lost love perhaps a barren heart and soul after something importants been lost. its sad with no hope no salvation. someone needs to bring the rain soon to help
desert and home and lost love perhaps a barren heart and soul after something importants been lost. its sad with no hope no salvation. someone needs to bring the rain soon to help
It was a empty town. The town was barren with dusty tumbleweeds, and sand. I hated loneliness now. I always have hated loneliness. Why was I here? Was it for torture? I will never know.
I feel very comfortable in random patterns, living in chaos is fine. Repetition seems in comparison a barren reality. It is like a life sentence with no parole. With random you get spontaneous action, you can dream of a new future, you can laugh at how irrational life really is.
I do believe this means that nothing can grow here. It has been tried before by greater men and yet this still cannot bloom. Yet I’ve inherited this desert and I know not what to do. To sit alone in silence amid the dry surroundings would surely drive me mad.
the wastelands of an arctic village scatter, remains of a once promising habitat gone to waste, left behind in this amazing feat of nature. You can feel the presence of the past villagers, who seem to have left all of their most precious belongings behind along with their odd trinkets.
It could be so different. It lay out, stretching its muscles, gripping for the edge of the horizon, and it could be so beautiful. Nothing would come between me and my prize. I would make beauty out of this sickening, barren place.
They stood around her, cheering and laughing, and there was nothing she could do. Inside, somewhere deep, somewhere hidden, somewhere she had wondered about before but never really understood, she was barren.
She looked across the open fields and all she could see was barren space where crops should be growing. Instead she saw lifeless dirt. And as the winds came, it blew the dirt up in swirling storms of what should have been.
She was not fair to say that her barren womb was hungry for him and not Stan. What a shame it is to eat only of the plucked plums of Venice. She was solitary in her confinement, her self-confinement. To whom will she speak, listen, and love?
It was a wasteland. A barren wasteland. Most deserts were, however, what came to my mind, in this instance, was far darker than a desert. This was like a landfill of broken dreams, deserted after an unsuccessful revolution.
Barren. Dry. Thats what comes to my mind with the word. Now that I think of it, recently, the weather has been turning very very hot. Not to mention very very very humid also. But on the flip side, in the morning, my skin tend to flake and turn very very dry. I wonder if there is something wrong with me or if it is just normal. I try to put lotions on but it doesn’t seem to work that well…
rough words creep into my ear and keep me awake.
it’s keeping me up through the storm in my mind.
my body will float to shore eventually
in this cruel sea, i see nothing
voices hold me back from screaming of fright.
but the thunder has silenced
so i can drift back to a peaceful sleep.
I put on a face. Everyone had been excited to come except for me. I laughed occasionally, but it all had been fake. I didn’t feel right as we pulled up to the barren field inside of Mark’s truck. It smelled musty, old, and unnatural. I suddenly wished I had said no.
this mind of mine is barren. i came back to this paper again and again, trying to think of something romantic, something poetic, something that didn’t make me sound washed up. i couldn’t think of anything. i can’t.
“High school,” she says drily, rolling up the sleeves of her gown in order to better twist the tassel on her flat-topped hat around until it threatens to fray, “is a barren desert of despair. Don’t believe anything they say about this night being an honor—they’re just as happy to see us go as we are to leave this place.”
my whole world seems barren right now. there are so many things that are coming up, but it’s just not coming to fruition for me. it’s like i can’t have enough. i don’t feel fulfilled. i read so many writings about feeling barren, and i know i’m not the only one. but sometimes i like to pretend i am. i like to pretend i’m the most complicated girl in the world. it’s more romantic to be the only barren girl in the world.
Sorry, Eliot; we’ve still yet to heal our Fisher King.
Desolate. Sad….horrifying.
Not able to produce….
not-fruitful.
Depressing.
Sometimes beautiful – like a desert.
Horrifying beautiful.
A wasteland of…pure amazing.
Or…sometimes…the worst thing that could ever be seen or could ever happen.
Nothing.
a wasteland between me and my memories, as i walk down the path of my life, look back, in distant hills i see the cat i once knew, the dances i once danced, and you have stopped walking with me…you are standing at a tree…and then…you turn and go down a different path and i want to go back but i live in a nintendo platform game where i can only move forward. every step counts. don’t fall.
Alone, deserted. A space which holds nothing, a hollow emptiness. No joy to be found. A lifeless place. A space where nothing exists. Loss. Confusion. Lacking in the finer things. Flat. Two dimensional. Undiscovered.
“Humanity’s purpose is for procreation; therefore, our lives are barren.”
Her mind was barren. Empty of all thoughts, of all opinions, of all possible reactions. She could not conjure up any words to form a decent response to the lingering question.
wilderness. trees. wild animals. how my soul feels without you. empty and cold. isolated. lonely. empty fields. a dying forest.
Humanity’s purpose is for procreation; our lives are barren.
sterile, blank
desert and home and lost love perhaps a barren heart and soul after something importants been lost. its sad with no hope no salvation. someone needs to bring the rain soon to help
desert and home and lost love perhaps a barren heart and soul after something importants been lost. its sad with no hope no salvation. someone needs to bring the rain soon to help
desert and home and lost love perhaps a barren heart and soul after something importants been lost. its sad with no hope no salvation. someone needs to bring the rain soon to help
desert and home and lost love perhaps a barren heart and soul after something importants been lost. its sad with no hope no salvation. someone needs to bring the rain soon to help
desert and home and lost love perhaps a barren heart and soul after something importants been lost. its sad with no hope no salvation. someone needs to bring the rain soon to help
desert and home and lost love perhaps a barren heart and soul after something importants been lost. its sad with no hope no salvation. someone needs to bring the rain soon to help
It was a empty town. The town was barren with dusty tumbleweeds, and sand. I hated loneliness now. I always have hated loneliness. Why was I here? Was it for torture? I will never know.
I feel very comfortable in random patterns, living in chaos is fine. Repetition seems in comparison a barren reality. It is like a life sentence with no parole. With random you get spontaneous action, you can dream of a new future, you can laugh at how irrational life really is.
Empty.
Desolate.
There is nothing
inside of me
I have been twisted and wrung until nothing is left
inside of me
I am empty
I am nothing
I do believe this means that nothing can grow here. It has been tried before by greater men and yet this still cannot bloom. Yet I’ve inherited this desert and I know not what to do. To sit alone in silence amid the dry surroundings would surely drive me mad.
hungry
aching
land
emptiness
lonely
grey
incomplete
lifeless
marble
stone
Lost in this desert
I must imagine the sand
as a billion crushed up gem stones
Still the latent sparkling
grows dull and barren to the mind
after a while
Lost in this desert
I must imagine the sand
as a billion crushed up gem stones
Still the latent sparkling
grows dull and barren to the mind
after a while
crumbled secrets and fragmented emotions
drip through my veins
like shards of glass
pricking at my insides
sparkling through my skin
Perhaps if all the world were made of diamonds
they would be less beautiful to us
the little spot where passion should be has lain barren until you reach out and touched me
the wastelands of an arctic village scatter, remains of a once promising habitat gone to waste, left behind in this amazing feat of nature. You can feel the presence of the past villagers, who seem to have left all of their most precious belongings behind along with their odd trinkets.
The soil was definetly barren. The farmer gazed at the sky looking for a miracle. Nothing would grow there, not even grass!
Childless, desert, dry, alone
It could be so different. It lay out, stretching its muscles, gripping for the edge of the horizon, and it could be so beautiful. Nothing would come between me and my prize. I would make beauty out of this sickening, barren place.
They stood around her, cheering and laughing, and there was nothing she could do. Inside, somewhere deep, somewhere hidden, somewhere she had wondered about before but never really understood, she was barren.
She looked across the open fields and all she could see was barren space where crops should be growing. Instead she saw lifeless dirt. And as the winds came, it blew the dirt up in swirling storms of what should have been.
She was not fair to say that her barren womb was hungry for him and not Stan. What a shame it is to eat only of the plucked plums of Venice. She was solitary in her confinement, her self-confinement. To whom will she speak, listen, and love?
It was a wasteland. A barren wasteland. Most deserts were, however, what came to my mind, in this instance, was far darker than a desert. This was like a landfill of broken dreams, deserted after an unsuccessful revolution.
Barren. Dry. Thats what comes to my mind with the word. Now that I think of it, recently, the weather has been turning very very hot. Not to mention very very very humid also. But on the flip side, in the morning, my skin tend to flake and turn very very dry. I wonder if there is something wrong with me or if it is just normal. I try to put lotions on but it doesn’t seem to work that well…
rough words creep into my ear and keep me awake.
it’s keeping me up through the storm in my mind.
my body will float to shore eventually
in this cruel sea, i see nothing
voices hold me back from screaming of fright.
but the thunder has silenced
so i can drift back to a peaceful sleep.
chest
hard
heavy
wool
rough
torn
worn out
old
thick
lumberjack
bounty
water
sea
boats
vikings
flannel
this desolate barren land.
cracked underneath my feet,
sending shivers down my spine
as I walk along this one thin line.
barren.
from the count of ten.
sitting here,
looking about me.
all I see is openness,
the beautiful ocean way off in the distance,
and the trees shadowing my face,
within all of this space.
I put on a face. Everyone had been excited to come except for me. I laughed occasionally, but it all had been fake. I didn’t feel right as we pulled up to the barren field inside of Mark’s truck. It smelled musty, old, and unnatural. I suddenly wished I had said no.
this mind of mine is barren. i came back to this paper again and again, trying to think of something romantic, something poetic, something that didn’t make me sound washed up. i couldn’t think of anything. i can’t.
“High school,” she says drily, rolling up the sleeves of her gown in order to better twist the tassel on her flat-topped hat around until it threatens to fray, “is a barren desert of despair. Don’t believe anything they say about this night being an honor—they’re just as happy to see us go as we are to leave this place.”
my whole world seems barren right now. there are so many things that are coming up, but it’s just not coming to fruition for me. it’s like i can’t have enough. i don’t feel fulfilled. i read so many writings about feeling barren, and i know i’m not the only one. but sometimes i like to pretend i am. i like to pretend i’m the most complicated girl in the world. it’s more romantic to be the only barren girl in the world.