She sat on the floor, blood rushing out of her freshly sliced arm. “I did it.” she thought to herself. She had finally done it, the thing she had been thinking for months. She was done, she’d never have to come back to this miserable place again.
This is weird.
I was anticipating some bleeding to happen anytime before this month ends.
Girls understand that, guys get engrossed.
PMS symptoms. check.
She held her mouth in proud defiance. No one would heal her. She knew more than anyone that this was the end. This was it. All her life, all the harm done to her, all the begging and pleading, it was over. And all she needed was a nice scented candle and some green tea to end it off with. To give in to it. It was time.
She soaked in the heavy red. Oh well. Maybe next time.
“Quick, come here.” Saturn held out piece of gauze and some tape to patch up my wound; people had started shooting at me outside. I was bewildered and terrified. I went up to him and thanked him for helping but before I knew what was happening I felt a piercing pain in my stomach. It was only after a while that I connected the pain to the apparent knife that Saturn had just plunged into me.
I once bled from my big toe. It hurt like hell, but I wouldn’t yell. Nobody would care anyway. I decided to see my doctor, then found out that he had died … of toe bleeding.
Bleeding hope. Staunch the bleeding. Bleeding over all the things I wanted, wounded from all the things I have to do. I don’t feel like I’m bleeding out as much as I used to be. The bandages have been wrapped and healing has begun. A nap, some water, and time, This is what heals the bleeding. The body does all the work if you let it.
My bleeding heart allows me to donate to the causes that I feel are most worthy and to feel for the less fortunate. I think we should all have a bleeding heart because the world would be less cynical and it would make it a better place.
The bullet didn’t lodge far into his arm — he could still see it — but it sure hurt like hell. He ripped the bottom of his shirt off with his teeth and wrapped it around his arm in a makeshift tourniquet. The blood oozed through the light blue fabric, causing his stomach to turn in his abdomen.
I find bleeding to be quite a repulsive word. I don’t really have any affection for blood, it makes me feel squeamish. I’ve seen a few unexpected open wounds and they make me light headed so bleeding as an action is weird for me. Also reminds me of Leona Lewis.
Never underestimate how deep a cut may be. Whether it be physical, or emotional, a cut to the heart or a cut to the mind. It bleeds. If you ignore it, it still bleeds, seeping through your entire being, rotting at your core, hurting even if you pretend it doesn’t. Always just in the back of your thoughts… bleeding away.
Clara had not, in her life, had a lot of pleasant experiences with blood. This was probably a statement that could be made about any number of people–and, very likely, a disproportionately HIGH number of people–but she felt, on days like this, where red was all she could see, that a compelling argument could be made that she was a special case.
You cut me open and I keep bleedin’, I keep keep bleedin’ love. You tore my heart apart baby. I love you and you tore me apart. My heart is bleeding baby, can you fix it?
Imagine not your body but heart is bleeding. As the time passes the wound may slowly close and may leave behind a scar that never vanishes, but if the wound does close, is the juice of life that left through this gush ever going to be reproduced like the blood in our bodies or is it just gone forever?
“We’ve got injure here. He’s bleeding.” McConnor shouted. “We need backup. I repeat we need backup” he tried to shout over the noise of the shots and explosions coming from every possible direction.
All the colours were bleeding into all the others, the humidity was tearing her eyes, or wetting the ink, who knows, either way it was beautiful. Then confusing. Then worrying. Three days in and smells started to occur with every change of pitch, the water changed color, it boiled upon touch. Her fingertips tingled with the magnetic fields of plug sockets. Light switches followed her as she moved within the room in a shuffled gait, then disappeared completely. Blinks controlled her mood. One day she awoke as a beetle, the next a swarm of broken buzzards all hive minded and featherless. On the last day she awoke as a dream of imaginary numbers, tangential, diphtherial. . .. . ….. . ……….. . . . . . …. .. . . .. . .. . . …….
.. ______________________________________
A single neon tone on a flickering screen, flatlining, bled out into zero-sum thrumming silence.
It wasn’t so much that he disliked her, it was just his aversion to being stabbed that he took offence too, still all things considered this date had gone better then they usually did, she hadn’t run away for one thing, she was still here, watching, as he bled out over the soft gravel
having a substance, usually blood, poor out of any body. The substance could be any liquid that is being poored out. It could describe the color red. It could be an adjective or a verb.
I ran away to the store and i came back with a knife. I didn’t mean to buuy a knife, but it just flew into my hand. i wondered why i was holding it for a second, but it didn’t matter. the main thing was that i had a knife and that i was going to use it. how, i didn’t know. but i’d use it. mark my words
I was running for my life when I felt the stab into my back and I realised that I hadn’t run fast enough to escape the manic behind me. I am dying, bleeding on a empty road alone.
She crosses out her thoughts in short relieving lines
Her arms: the pages marked with these mistakes
Adulterated screaming verses impaled with red stripes
Open up a vein and the words will flow freely,
She finds:
She can no longer finish her sentence
She was bleeding on the floor; she looked down, seeing the wound. She looked back in shock. “What did you do to me?” she demanded furiously. “You bastard!”
“Too fed up and bleeding tired, that is my problem,” he said. “Fed up with being taken advantage of, having shit thrown in my face and putting up with the abuse you dish out.”
Redness spread across his body; it was blood. He didn’t know how on earth did he get injured. He looked back to spot someone holding a bloodied knife. An assassin. Why didn’t he figure that out?
my mouth is bleeding right now. because i pulled a tooth out and it was a molar. and now its bleeding. i was brushing my teeth and when i spat i spat all this blood out and it was kinda gross. i was also bleeding because i was flossing my teeth and my gums started to bleed cause i take horrible care of my teeth and gums.
The bleeding wound was capturing all of my attention. The pain was almost unbearable. Then some sort of magic happened. The dust turned into small diamond sand under the touch of my very blood. Blue sand. Like silk.
the shame, the shame, the pride, the pride. the bleeding man consists of only shame or pride and shame and pride. knowing, how his self will meet eternity in the state of shame and pride, he passes away and all of his self becomes erased as his body gets destroyed.
inviting through telescopes
your old inverted dreams
stars are out tonight
as i call, convert your schemes
laughter guffaws echoing ironically
i couldn’t have told the truth
i didn’t hold you
as the bleeding skies bleed into our eyes
the night falls and the day begins to see
our love; it’s a pyrrhic victory
an enemy of the perfect scene.
Stepping into the shower, the water begins to gently peddle my closed eyes. Looking down i watch as the pretty red follows down the drain. More blood than water, it makes me feel as if i just brutally murdered someone.
The water burns my fresh cuts. The burning sensation throughout most of my body, pleasures me. Glancing down again, just clear liquid runs down.
I sit on the wet floor. Legs bundled against my chest, I use my joined arms to carry myself tightly together. With my face buried in i begin to focus on the the way the water flows around my naked skin.
I slowly slip away. Peacefully in my own disturbed solitaire. Free from the haunting thoughts waiting for me outside the door. Away from the tormenting illusions and demeaning voices ready to devour me. Safe from the dark depression that imprisons me.
Breathing feels too easy, and momentary serenity rushes my veins. Maybe even slight delight.
Then i’m awoken by the pounding on the door signaling my placidity is over. And the dream i was so captive in is now my sick reality. I’m forced back into the world ready to destroy me all over again.
My bleeding heart fills my head with hurt. The blood seeps out staining not only my skin my emotions too. Blood tainted with fear, sadness, loneliness and guilt. I can’t stop this bleeding.
i stood there on the rocky mountain face, my knife in hand, looking at the tiger that had just tried to maul me. it was like a switch was flipped inside my head. one minute i was bleeding, tiger’s jaws wrapped around my arm, then i became something wild. something frightening.
to feel the blood flow from my veins, the life drain from my body. To bleed is to be alive, to stop bleeding is to die. As long as I can bleed, I can breathe…
We bleed from the knees and it pours and you
don’t even notice, do you, as the
bruise count,
mounts under your skin
because it’s all bleeding I suppose like the flowers that grow
in your underpants that time
and the blooms that drip down your thigh
that other time?
We’re all an inkwell
waiting for a quill,
waiting for a finally conscientious student.
Blood drips, crimson bright across my alabaster skin. I didn’t want this, wasn’t ready yet for what lay beyond, but I knothat every drop spilt brings me a step closer to oblivion.
Waking up in the morning by the feeling of a warm, sticky, fluid. Wet sheets. Getting out of bed. Difficulty standing on trembling legs, supporting herself on the headboard. Feeling weak, hot in the face. Pains of becoming a woman.
my hands my heart
until the last sunday
bleeding inside, you cannot see any redness outside
i love to be alone but this is too much even for me
i am bleeding inside
the wounds are done through my father’s words
gums bleed when not brushed properly, going to the dentist and flossing is imperative ,,wounds bleed when the skin is damaged.
She sat on the floor, blood rushing out of her freshly sliced arm. “I did it.” she thought to herself. She had finally done it, the thing she had been thinking for months. She was done, she’d never have to come back to this miserable place again.
This is weird.
I was anticipating some bleeding to happen anytime before this month ends.
Girls understand that, guys get engrossed.
PMS symptoms. check.
She held her mouth in proud defiance. No one would heal her. She knew more than anyone that this was the end. This was it. All her life, all the harm done to her, all the begging and pleading, it was over. And all she needed was a nice scented candle and some green tea to end it off with. To give in to it. It was time.
She soaked in the heavy red. Oh well. Maybe next time.
“Quick, come here.” Saturn held out piece of gauze and some tape to patch up my wound; people had started shooting at me outside. I was bewildered and terrified. I went up to him and thanked him for helping but before I knew what was happening I felt a piercing pain in my stomach. It was only after a while that I connected the pain to the apparent knife that Saturn had just plunged into me.
I once bled from my big toe. It hurt like hell, but I wouldn’t yell. Nobody would care anyway. I decided to see my doctor, then found out that he had died … of toe bleeding.
Bleeding hope. Staunch the bleeding. Bleeding over all the things I wanted, wounded from all the things I have to do. I don’t feel like I’m bleeding out as much as I used to be. The bandages have been wrapped and healing has begun. A nap, some water, and time, This is what heals the bleeding. The body does all the work if you let it.
My bleeding heart allows me to donate to the causes that I feel are most worthy and to feel for the less fortunate. I think we should all have a bleeding heart because the world would be less cynical and it would make it a better place.
The bullet didn’t lodge far into his arm — he could still see it — but it sure hurt like hell. He ripped the bottom of his shirt off with his teeth and wrapped it around his arm in a makeshift tourniquet. The blood oozed through the light blue fabric, causing his stomach to turn in his abdomen.
I find bleeding to be quite a repulsive word. I don’t really have any affection for blood, it makes me feel squeamish. I’ve seen a few unexpected open wounds and they make me light headed so bleeding as an action is weird for me. Also reminds me of Leona Lewis.
Never underestimate how deep a cut may be. Whether it be physical, or emotional, a cut to the heart or a cut to the mind. It bleeds. If you ignore it, it still bleeds, seeping through your entire being, rotting at your core, hurting even if you pretend it doesn’t. Always just in the back of your thoughts… bleeding away.
Clara had not, in her life, had a lot of pleasant experiences with blood. This was probably a statement that could be made about any number of people–and, very likely, a disproportionately HIGH number of people–but she felt, on days like this, where red was all she could see, that a compelling argument could be made that she was a special case.
i had this word yesterday
so i have nothing to say today
You cut me open and I keep bleedin’, I keep keep bleedin’ love. You tore my heart apart baby. I love you and you tore me apart. My heart is bleeding baby, can you fix it?
Imagine not your body but heart is bleeding. As the time passes the wound may slowly close and may leave behind a scar that never vanishes, but if the wound does close, is the juice of life that left through this gush ever going to be reproduced like the blood in our bodies or is it just gone forever?
She was bleeding from her eye sockets. “This is a new one” though Dr. Grey. She consulted Dr. Bailey to find a way to stop the bleeding.
“We’ve got injure here. He’s bleeding.” McConnor shouted. “We need backup. I repeat we need backup” he tried to shout over the noise of the shots and explosions coming from every possible direction.
All the colours were bleeding into all the others, the humidity was tearing her eyes, or wetting the ink, who knows, either way it was beautiful. Then confusing. Then worrying. Three days in and smells started to occur with every change of pitch, the water changed color, it boiled upon touch. Her fingertips tingled with the magnetic fields of plug sockets. Light switches followed her as she moved within the room in a shuffled gait, then disappeared completely. Blinks controlled her mood. One day she awoke as a beetle, the next a swarm of broken buzzards all hive minded and featherless. On the last day she awoke as a dream of imaginary numbers, tangential, diphtherial. . .. . ….. . ……….. . . . . . …. .. . . .. . .. . . …….
.. ______________________________________
A single neon tone on a flickering screen, flatlining, bled out into zero-sum thrumming silence.
It wasn’t so much that he disliked her, it was just his aversion to being stabbed that he took offence too, still all things considered this date had gone better then they usually did, she hadn’t run away for one thing, she was still here, watching, as he bled out over the soft gravel
lost
empty,
ending,
dripping out.
having a substance, usually blood, poor out of any body. The substance could be any liquid that is being poored out. It could describe the color red. It could be an adjective or a verb.
I ran away to the store and i came back with a knife. I didn’t mean to buuy a knife, but it just flew into my hand. i wondered why i was holding it for a second, but it didn’t matter. the main thing was that i had a knife and that i was going to use it. how, i didn’t know. but i’d use it. mark my words
I was running for my life when I felt the stab into my back and I realised that I hadn’t run fast enough to escape the manic behind me. I am dying, bleeding on a empty road alone.
She crosses out her thoughts in short relieving lines
Her arms: the pages marked with these mistakes
Adulterated screaming verses impaled with red stripes
Open up a vein and the words will flow freely,
She finds:
She can no longer finish her sentence
She was bleeding on the floor; she looked down, seeing the wound. She looked back in shock. “What did you do to me?” she demanded furiously. “You bastard!”
He just smirked.
“Too fed up and bleeding tired, that is my problem,” he said. “Fed up with being taken advantage of, having shit thrown in my face and putting up with the abuse you dish out.”
Redness spread across his body; it was blood. He didn’t know how on earth did he get injured. He looked back to spot someone holding a bloodied knife. An assassin. Why didn’t he figure that out?
my mouth is bleeding right now. because i pulled a tooth out and it was a molar. and now its bleeding. i was brushing my teeth and when i spat i spat all this blood out and it was kinda gross. i was also bleeding because i was flossing my teeth and my gums started to bleed cause i take horrible care of my teeth and gums.
The bleeding wound was capturing all of my attention. The pain was almost unbearable. Then some sort of magic happened. The dust turned into small diamond sand under the touch of my very blood. Blue sand. Like silk.
the shame, the shame, the pride, the pride. the bleeding man consists of only shame or pride and shame and pride. knowing, how his self will meet eternity in the state of shame and pride, he passes away and all of his self becomes erased as his body gets destroyed.
inviting through telescopes
your old inverted dreams
stars are out tonight
as i call, convert your schemes
laughter guffaws echoing ironically
i couldn’t have told the truth
i didn’t hold you
as the bleeding skies bleed into our eyes
the night falls and the day begins to see
our love; it’s a pyrrhic victory
an enemy of the perfect scene.
Stepping into the shower, the water begins to gently peddle my closed eyes. Looking down i watch as the pretty red follows down the drain. More blood than water, it makes me feel as if i just brutally murdered someone.
The water burns my fresh cuts. The burning sensation throughout most of my body, pleasures me. Glancing down again, just clear liquid runs down.
I sit on the wet floor. Legs bundled against my chest, I use my joined arms to carry myself tightly together. With my face buried in i begin to focus on the the way the water flows around my naked skin.
I slowly slip away. Peacefully in my own disturbed solitaire. Free from the haunting thoughts waiting for me outside the door. Away from the tormenting illusions and demeaning voices ready to devour me. Safe from the dark depression that imprisons me.
Breathing feels too easy, and momentary serenity rushes my veins. Maybe even slight delight.
Then i’m awoken by the pounding on the door signaling my placidity is over. And the dream i was so captive in is now my sick reality. I’m forced back into the world ready to destroy me all over again.
My bleeding heart fills my head with hurt. The blood seeps out staining not only my skin my emotions too. Blood tainted with fear, sadness, loneliness and guilt. I can’t stop this bleeding.
i stood there on the rocky mountain face, my knife in hand, looking at the tiger that had just tried to maul me. it was like a switch was flipped inside my head. one minute i was bleeding, tiger’s jaws wrapped around my arm, then i became something wild. something frightening.
to feel the blood flow from my veins, the life drain from my body. To bleed is to be alive, to stop bleeding is to die. As long as I can bleed, I can breathe…
Violence. Physical and mental. Pain. Sweet pain. Sacrifice. Ultimate gift. Act of pouring blood. Red.
We bleed from the knees and it pours and you
don’t even notice, do you, as the
bruise count,
mounts under your skin
because it’s all bleeding I suppose like the flowers that grow
in your underpants that time
and the blooms that drip down your thigh
that other time?
We’re all an inkwell
waiting for a quill,
waiting for a finally conscientious student.
Blood drips, crimson bright across my alabaster skin. I didn’t want this, wasn’t ready yet for what lay beyond, but I knothat every drop spilt brings me a step closer to oblivion.
Waking up in the morning by the feeling of a warm, sticky, fluid. Wet sheets. Getting out of bed. Difficulty standing on trembling legs, supporting herself on the headboard. Feeling weak, hot in the face. Pains of becoming a woman.
my hands my heart
until the last sunday
bleeding inside, you cannot see any redness outside
i love to be alone but this is too much even for me
i am bleeding inside
the wounds are done through my father’s words