That blasted car. It’s gone and stopped again. No matter how much I turn the key, nothing happens.
Blast. Where am I? Where can I get help? This blasted car. I should’ve known better than to take on this drive when I knew that the car was going to die any moment. Blast blast blast. I wish I hadn’t done this.
Let me check my phone.
Of course it’s dead.
i blasted off into the outer realms of my mind with a couple of friends, good music, and a pound of the jane; living in the moment, procrastinating on the important, feeling good.
There was a scream and he whipped around a second to late. He got a glimpse of her face before the car behind her was blasted to bits. The flames caught her and debris pummeled her. He shouted “NO” but to no avail. Someone tackled him to the ground but he could only see the glimmering red remains of the car and glaring orange flames.
mark the mountain climber
has strong arms like my boyfriend
and a deeper voice
he is really very fit
it makes me feel self conscious
we don’t talk anymore
Blasted demon! It’s too late! run while i hold him off! only i have the scythe that can kill him! save the rest of the ship and i’ll take care of this! ah! my hand! oh god no!
Hot air blasts my face the minute I step out of the house. I pause, consider turning back, then realize I have no options other than going through the scorching, lonely desert. Now.
“blasted boys,”
my gran says from my passenger seat
as we watch a group of men in scarves
step into the crosswalk.
she’s been gone for years
but her voice is always around.
“that one is pretty cute, samantha.
don’t you think?”
was the word my grandparent used to say, I know not even american, but very useful when you are mad about something, I can honestly remenber those summers in georgia under the glorying sky.
his rapist brother
looks at me
with a wedding band on his finger
and a bum eye that sticks
and i am not supposed to know these things about him
he now has a tattoo of the noble eightfold path on his back
light teasing, i am younger than him
i smile and take it, i smile and spit a witticism back
i look him in the other eye, the one that moves
but i think he knows
and i wonder if it ever comes up in interviews
That blasted shoe. I knew it wouldn’t last the night but did it have to go like that. Positively embarassing. Hobbling along falling into every single gap between those cobble stones. Didn’t see a single star that night, just those horrid cobblestones that my gaze poured into as I tried to step on them just right to avoid introducing my face to them.
what i’m doing is blasted. i don’t have anything to say. everything is ruined. my thoughts are a mess. my mind is blank. i’m staring into space. i’m looking at nothing. argh!
“forget me” she said
“forget the breath of the sound of my name”
melodramatic, yes. she was the melodramatic sort.
i touched her hand aimlessly
frigeting and bored.
this blasted place we’re in.
four walls.
ripped us apart.
All my blasted feelings need to be written down in about 60 seconds. This is a very hard thing to do, but I will do it to the best of my ability. I am confused and bored with myself at this point in time. Thanks
Your heart is like a dragon, fire-blasted and red. Beating with a heat, shimmery smoke intact beneath a scaly outside wall. There are so many things, hidden beneath your fiery protection. So many secrets I would love to steal, but it just beats on and on in the way that hearts do, and I plot my way to confiscate that gem in futility.
My heart was blasted from my chest with his announcement. Who makes that kind of decision and expects the other person in the relationship to just accept it? Prison had a new definition to me. For years, I had been trapped with the sentence he inflicted on me. Now, I can see the chance for parole… but am I brave enough to step out of the cell into an uncertain world?
at a certain point i decided to change,
to throw aside all the fears and insecurities that kept me quiet and withdrawn,
my armour in a crazy family,
keep a low profile
dont make noise,
dont cause a stir
the best you can hope for is to be unnoticed.
i broke out of that shell and started to find myself,
to express rather than repress,
opened up that heart and mind
and blasted that shit to the sky
Not quite blitzed.
It’s blasted.
Cast like sand.
Smoldering hot.
Heat wound.
That tear in time.
When the cycle repeats.
A glitch. Not intended. Hiccup in the process.
Watched water boils a glacial pace.
It’s all about the tempo.
Blasted by the feeling of love – it has blown me over and uncovered deep hidden parts of my being I would rather have let covered. Blessed am I to be revealed!
I wish I could get a blast of happiness early in the morning. Cheer me up…prep me for my work and heal my broken heart… sometimes a blast is the best thing you need in life…to regain , rejuvenate… recollect your broken life…
The canon shot through the air, its path was outlined brightly through the clear blue sky. You could almost see fire tinged on its ends. As it disappeared into the distance, you could faintly hear a familiar cry.
“We’re blasting off again!” Jessie, James and Meowth chanted as they vanished into the clouds.
blasted to me is a british word. it makes me think of harry potter.
i never use uppercase letters whenever i’m on oneword, and i don’t know why. it’s certainly not laziness, because i still use proper punctuation and spelling.
there must be some kind of psychoanalysis as to why i don’t use blasted uppercase on these prompts.
in the darkness it is difficult to see
but when I wake no longer hearing
I know it’s gone too far
because you came here so quietly
but left a numbing roar
in place of everything you told me I could be
blast
ship
rocket
rocketship
drunk
drugged
high?
obliterated
tattoos
wasted
idk what else to write
omg!
is this even working?
what is this?
pq ian me envio esto?
i dont get it?
now what?
ugh!
bah
The wind blasted down the street, bending trees and throwing trash into swirls of unfettered rage. I pulled my collar high, and stepped out into the tempest.
whenever i hear blasted i imagine an almost scooby doo-ish type villain saying “and i could have gotten away with it if it weren’t for those blasted, meddling kids!!”
then again, i can’t imagine anyone but a scooby doo villain saying “blasted, meddling kids”
blasted oh my god whenever i hear blasted i think of a middle aged british man saying “those blasted hoodlums!!” or something oR A SCOOBY DOO VILLAIN SAYING “those blasted meddling kids!!” I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY ABOUT BLASTED blasted hmmmmmmm where do i begin with you blasted
One of those days again. I was coming back from school, riding the same three hour commute I was forced to take every weekend. By the time I arrived to the good ol’ dungeon with the gang, I would have that simple question: what do we do when we have nothing to do? Every week, on Thursday before I had to go to bed to work, we lit up and got blasted.
The rocket blasted into outer space, into the heavens. It would not return for several years, several millennia, as it were. Eventually it reached the outer cosmos and, some say, grazed the feet of God.
The stereo was pounding and you could feel the bass through your feet. Your heart matched the rhythms pulsing through the floor. Paint splattered your clothes and face and you partied with your few friends and tons of strangers. The music blasted its way through all the thoughts you usually are drowning in. The music blasted the pain away at least more this moment.
BLASTED THE FORM RIGHT OUT OF THE SKY. balsted the gun away from the bullet. blasted the rocket. blasted his emotions to the wall to create a masterpiece of emotion. blasted the music. blasted the test out of the water. focused on blasting what happened. a
Blasted humans. Blasted world. What are we writing for, living for, or are we living, or alive really, we are simply “blasted”. Left with our remnants trailing from us.
The withered man stared in disbelief. The blasted kids had done it again. Didn’t they realize this was not funny. Didn’t they realize how much it hurt. To have her memory mocked every week.
As we blasted off I looked out the window at the planet we were leaving behind. Smoke billowed from the charred, withered earth and ravines ran like gashes across the face of a dying nation. The world was ending in flame and in horror, the sun scorching us from the outside in. Our leaving was our only hope to live, but I couldn’t help but think of those who wouldn’t be leaving; wouldn’t be breathing; wouldn’t even be crying for those loved ones lost.
She blasted the radio through the wall
So the child next door could feel it –
the sounds dancing across this skin
that separated them.
Tomorrow it was time.
That blasted car. It’s gone and stopped again. No matter how much I turn the key, nothing happens.
Blast. Where am I? Where can I get help? This blasted car. I should’ve known better than to take on this drive when I knew that the car was going to die any moment. Blast blast blast. I wish I hadn’t done this.
Let me check my phone.
Of course it’s dead.
i blasted off into the outer realms of my mind with a couple of friends, good music, and a pound of the jane; living in the moment, procrastinating on the important, feeling good.
There was a scream and he whipped around a second to late. He got a glimpse of her face before the car behind her was blasted to bits. The flames caught her and debris pummeled her. He shouted “NO” but to no avail. Someone tackled him to the ground but he could only see the glimmering red remains of the car and glaring orange flames.
mark the mountain climber
has strong arms like my boyfriend
and a deeper voice
he is really very fit
it makes me feel self conscious
we don’t talk anymore
Blasted demon! It’s too late! run while i hold him off! only i have the scythe that can kill him! save the rest of the ship and i’ll take care of this! ah! my hand! oh god no!
Hot air blasts my face the minute I step out of the house. I pause, consider turning back, then realize I have no options other than going through the scorching, lonely desert. Now.
“blasted boys,”
my gran says from my passenger seat
as we watch a group of men in scarves
step into the crosswalk.
she’s been gone for years
but her voice is always around.
“that one is pretty cute, samantha.
don’t you think?”
was the word my grandparent used to say, I know not even american, but very useful when you are mad about something, I can honestly remenber those summers in georgia under the glorying sky.
his rapist brother
looks at me
with a wedding band on his finger
and a bum eye that sticks
and i am not supposed to know these things about him
he now has a tattoo of the noble eightfold path on his back
light teasing, i am younger than him
i smile and take it, i smile and spit a witticism back
i look him in the other eye, the one that moves
but i think he knows
and i wonder if it ever comes up in interviews
That blasted shoe. I knew it wouldn’t last the night but did it have to go like that. Positively embarassing. Hobbling along falling into every single gap between those cobble stones. Didn’t see a single star that night, just those horrid cobblestones that my gaze poured into as I tried to step on them just right to avoid introducing my face to them.
what i’m doing is blasted. i don’t have anything to say. everything is ruined. my thoughts are a mess. my mind is blank. i’m staring into space. i’m looking at nothing. argh!
“forget me” she said
“forget the breath of the sound of my name”
melodramatic, yes. she was the melodramatic sort.
i touched her hand aimlessly
frigeting and bored.
this blasted place we’re in.
four walls.
ripped us apart.
it seems like the words i am looking for
are written in my hands
calloused; wrung dry
for this blasted year
my thoughts are counted in sighs.
All my blasted feelings need to be written down in about 60 seconds. This is a very hard thing to do, but I will do it to the best of my ability. I am confused and bored with myself at this point in time. Thanks
Your heart is like a dragon, fire-blasted and red. Beating with a heat, shimmery smoke intact beneath a scaly outside wall. There are so many things, hidden beneath your fiery protection. So many secrets I would love to steal, but it just beats on and on in the way that hearts do, and I plot my way to confiscate that gem in futility.
My heart was blasted from my chest with his announcement. Who makes that kind of decision and expects the other person in the relationship to just accept it? Prison had a new definition to me. For years, I had been trapped with the sentence he inflicted on me. Now, I can see the chance for parole… but am I brave enough to step out of the cell into an uncertain world?
at a certain point i decided to change,
to throw aside all the fears and insecurities that kept me quiet and withdrawn,
my armour in a crazy family,
keep a low profile
dont make noise,
dont cause a stir
the best you can hope for is to be unnoticed.
i broke out of that shell and started to find myself,
to express rather than repress,
opened up that heart and mind
and blasted that shit to the sky
Not quite blitzed.
It’s blasted.
Cast like sand.
Smoldering hot.
Heat wound.
That tear in time.
When the cycle repeats.
A glitch. Not intended. Hiccup in the process.
Watched water boils a glacial pace.
It’s all about the tempo.
The door flew from its hinges, blasted away into the void by a single sullen gust of wind.
Blasted by the feeling of love – it has blown me over and uncovered deep hidden parts of my being I would rather have let covered. Blessed am I to be revealed!
I wish I could get a blast of happiness early in the morning. Cheer me up…prep me for my work and heal my broken heart… sometimes a blast is the best thing you need in life…to regain , rejuvenate… recollect your broken life…
The canon shot through the air, its path was outlined brightly through the clear blue sky. You could almost see fire tinged on its ends. As it disappeared into the distance, you could faintly hear a familiar cry.
“We’re blasting off again!” Jessie, James and Meowth chanted as they vanished into the clouds.
blasted to me is a british word. it makes me think of harry potter.
i never use uppercase letters whenever i’m on oneword, and i don’t know why. it’s certainly not laziness, because i still use proper punctuation and spelling.
there must be some kind of psychoanalysis as to why i don’t use blasted uppercase on these prompts.
in the darkness it is difficult to see
but when I wake no longer hearing
I know it’s gone too far
because you came here so quietly
but left a numbing roar
in place of everything you told me I could be
blast
ship
rocket
rocketship
drunk
drugged
high?
obliterated
tattoos
wasted
idk what else to write
omg!
is this even working?
what is this?
pq ian me envio esto?
i dont get it?
now what?
ugh!
bah
“Those bloody blasted culprits.”
The wind blasted down the street, bending trees and throwing trash into swirls of unfettered rage. I pulled my collar high, and stepped out into the tempest.
whenever i hear blasted i imagine an almost scooby doo-ish type villain saying “and i could have gotten away with it if it weren’t for those blasted, meddling kids!!”
then again, i can’t imagine anyone but a scooby doo villain saying “blasted, meddling kids”
blasted oh my god whenever i hear blasted i think of a middle aged british man saying “those blasted hoodlums!!” or something oR A SCOOBY DOO VILLAIN SAYING “those blasted meddling kids!!” I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY ABOUT BLASTED blasted hmmmmmmm where do i begin with you blasted
To be tenaciously progressing forward- “getting drunk.”
Blasted into another mind set.
I feel greater than myself.
Transcending what my mind use to be.
THIS is life.
One of those days again. I was coming back from school, riding the same three hour commute I was forced to take every weekend. By the time I arrived to the good ol’ dungeon with the gang, I would have that simple question: what do we do when we have nothing to do? Every week, on Thursday before I had to go to bed to work, we lit up and got blasted.
The rocket blasted into outer space, into the heavens. It would not return for several years, several millennia, as it were. Eventually it reached the outer cosmos and, some say, grazed the feet of God.
The stereo was pounding and you could feel the bass through your feet. Your heart matched the rhythms pulsing through the floor. Paint splattered your clothes and face and you partied with your few friends and tons of strangers. The music blasted its way through all the thoughts you usually are drowning in. The music blasted the pain away at least more this moment.
BLASTED THE FORM RIGHT OUT OF THE SKY. balsted the gun away from the bullet. blasted the rocket. blasted his emotions to the wall to create a masterpiece of emotion. blasted the music. blasted the test out of the water. focused on blasting what happened. a
Blasted humans. Blasted world. What are we writing for, living for, or are we living, or alive really, we are simply “blasted”. Left with our remnants trailing from us.
i was blasted by the news, completely run over.
She is gone, my heart aches with fear, loneliness anxiety and sadness.
I don’t know how to move now and it feels like my throat is closing in.
so sad.
The withered man stared in disbelief. The blasted kids had done it again. Didn’t they realize this was not funny. Didn’t they realize how much it hurt. To have her memory mocked every week.
As we blasted off I looked out the window at the planet we were leaving behind. Smoke billowed from the charred, withered earth and ravines ran like gashes across the face of a dying nation. The world was ending in flame and in horror, the sun scorching us from the outside in. Our leaving was our only hope to live, but I couldn’t help but think of those who wouldn’t be leaving; wouldn’t be breathing; wouldn’t even be crying for those loved ones lost.
She blasted the radio through the wall
So the child next door could feel it –
the sounds dancing across this skin
that separated them.
Tomorrow it was time.