I woke up one morning, stepped out of bed and felt a massive weight pull me down. I tried to proceed with my day, good dressed and headed to work. Whilst there I couldn’t fathom why no one could see it, why know one would help me. Surely someone would help me remove this weight chaining me down…
The chain bit into her skin, and Christina bit back a sob. She trudged on, cursing at the uphill ground and the chains dragging her down, yet connecting her to the other prisoners.
The chain let go. Finally. She didn’t know how long she was trapped by that invisible stronghold. But she didn’t care. She was finally free – free from her own thoughts, her own mind. And it was liberating. A breath of fresh air.
It was a ripple effect, a chain of chilly, painful strikes flickering from one person to another. Sawyer could see it coming, even if Eric and Morgan were blind to it. She rested her hand on the balcony, overlooking the training Zander and Julian. Zander’s eyes rose to meet hers, and Sawyer drew back, suddenly stung. Something was wrong.
She had one chain that led to me. I followed that chain, and her, wherever she went, the line taunt between us. One day, the chain slackened and I rushed forward only to find that there was nothing on the other side. And maybe there never was.
The chain link fence stood between me and my only means of escape. It looked like it was fifty feet high, but I knew it was only six feet. But I still couldn’t climb it. There was barbed-wire at the top that would slice me to pieces. I looked behind me at what I had to go back to and then at the fence. I took the chance.
Everyone is chained to the world. Held back by the limitations and rules the world has us following with chance of breaking the chains by which the universe has wrapped around us. Chained are we as humans.
third grade. those letters would come in the mail all the time. envelopes filled with envelopes filled with envelopes, all holding letters from superstitious children across america. how did you get my address? is it your fault i’m single now?
a chain is a chain of animal or it also sounds as chineesse or as frankling chan no se ni porque putas estoy haciendo esta mierda que tigra alchile porque estoy en stumble upon me cago en la mierda jeje que divertido escribir 60 segundos retrasados chain mi culo alchile porque alguien seria asi.
Chain. On a bike. The ones that get all broken when they come loose, and the ones that get all black and sticky and nasty whenever you touch them because of all the oil. Where the heck does that oil come from, anyway?!
Chains. Wow, when we were little we watched Shark boy and Lava girl and we thought they were cool, so my little sister was Chain Girl. She should’ve been metal girl. That would’ve been much less specific and powerful … wow, I’m rambling now. But rushwrite! I guess that’s what it is …
The chain that bounds us, invisible and unknown. Societal chains that come from everywhere, media, politics and religion. We must break free, we must be unchained from the expectation that society has pressed on us. We must break the chain.
Chains. On my ankles, on my wrists. Around my neck. Burning, ripping into my flesh. But it didn’t hurt. Not like it should have. Not with…it. Not with it flowing through my veins, numbing my emotions and senses.
But wait–what’s that? I’m sad. Frustrated. Scared. Lonely. I’m feeling them, tingling through me, and I do feel the pain. I see the blood and feel the warmth of it running down my arms and pooling beneath my heels. I raise my head and see a light, a figure.
A scientist.
How do I know this?
I don’t.
But soon he’s there, in front of me, hauling me to my feet. Pressing something against my lips. I feel something cold run down my throat, then a freedom on my wrists. Then cool air on my ankles. Then my neck. Then I’m being hauled to my feet and out the door, into a bright white room.
And then I see the glint of the syringe and see it drawing near, and I scream without meaning to. I thrash and kick and slam into the wall, something wet streaming down my cheeks.
But it’s no use, and in moments the syringe has been plunged into my forearm and I can’t feel, can’t feel, can’t feel…
It’s like a chain of steel wrapped around your heart. You’re the prey of an anaconda, you’re the trash in a garbage compactor, you’re the air being let go out of someone’s lungs. Because you’re easy to give up, to conquer. You’re the unloved, the sacrificed. Without question, it’s a chain.
Chain reaction cycles is a company that I buy my bike parts from. They’re fantastic, they offer great value for money and they deliver on time. They also let you return items for free if you change your mind or don’t need it. Fantastic company.
Chain also makes me think that my life is being held in place by forces I can’t change.
There is a chain link fence by the school. We climbed on it to the roof that night. I liked the way your eyes looked in the lights of the passing cars. They are milky mint green with a rusty edge I can’t stop thinking about.
link fence stood in the way of me and the heard of sheep. they were holding on to each other’s tails just like the chain link fence i was staring at. how would i get past them without them seeing me? what would they do? would they say, “what are ewe doing here?” or would they simply stand and hold onto their tails?
Blood pounded in his head when he woke up, laying on the damp floor scattered with moldy hay. The chains chafed the skin on his wrists. He squeezed his eyes shut. He had made such a stupid mistake.
I can’t stop staring at her. She can’t stop staring vacantly at the window in front of her–sliding the chain around her neck between her thumb and index finger. She stares continuously… and I want to wake her up.
chains. chains. heavy iron chains on the mechanic’s floor. i walked past heavy rusted iron chains that lied on the shop floor. i shuffled wearily past the heavy iron chains that laid on the mechanic’s shop floor.
She pulled at the chain but it wouldn’t come loose, she wasn’t strong enough. She tried to make out something, anything, and decipher where she was, but it was too dark. She slumped against the wall and wiped away the tears flowing down her face with her free hand.
…link fence was my big nightmare, but I can’t tell you why. The first house we ever bought was surrounded by it, this sharp and insistent grey stuff. Somehow they had figured it was genious to stick an extra wall of it in the middle of the yard, and it was just hideous.
chain chain chain chain of fools I love Aretha Franklin I hate chain link fence The kids and I used to make paper chains to decorate the Christmas tree each year. We would make popcorn strings too.That’s all I have so far.
As I broke apart, piece by piece, I saw all of my friends. I saw Mary, as my sympathy shattered, I saw Corinne, as my patience ruptured, I saw Eric, as my forgiveness melted. I broke. Me, the unbreakable, broke.
We’ll see about the chains, I whispered, low.
And they laughed, for they knew it wasn’t in my power to decide.
They took me to a room. It had a chair, and a rope. They tied me to it.
It was the first in a chain of events I would never have predicted.
Life can be described by a chain. Rather, chains. Because chains connect things, yes? As in a chain of events, each link representing a situation that immediately leads to the next. And yet, we don’t think about all of the implications of how many chains there actually are, and how they’re not at all separate from one another; it’s not really chains at all, but a massive web.
Her chains stretched across the room, locking her into place more securely than a thousand ton weight. Then again, they weighed about a thousand tons. There were coils and eddies of chains that shifted as she moved. Not that she did that often, even sitting the weight of them was enough to burden her almost beyond bearing. People could come and gawk, see the woman who destroyed the world, but no one asked why she was chained. It just made a good picture.
It hurt. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt before and like all of the pain I had ever felt before. I’d agreed to this. I cried out. There’s a fine line between pain and pleasure; with each of his subsequent thrusts more forceful than the previous, I knew there was a fine line. At least the chains on my wrists felt good.
Surrounding the back yard is a chain link fence. It cages us in like rats. We can see out but we can never leave. What is it like outside this confinement? Who else is out there? Why is it so important that we remain in this one place?
it was my brothers gold chain. He gave it to me right as he left, my parents were insane, my Mom was depressed and my Dad was never around and all i had was my brother and when he turned 18 he left me with his gold chain, and hope that one day i would leave too. I wore the chain under my shirt everyday, it’s what kept me going.
I’m locked. Locked in. I’m frozen, tied up in these heavy chains filled with fear and blood pumping and pumping and pumping. and remorse. I hate him, but no more than I hate myself. What the fuck have I done? I can’t remember, but I know I deserve this.
I remembered that chain he gave me, the way he gave it to me. I didn’t know the means of how he got it, but he told me to never lose it. I held it so dear, so close to me. Was it time for me to give it up? To remind myself to not be so materialistic? I miss it even more than I miss you.
My email is plagued by your presence. I am at a constant battle whether to send or delete. Will I be plagued with bad luck? I’m at a loss here. You’re the devil’s mail.
It was daisies that spread throughout the grass, and she stared in amazement. Her fingers plucked a stem and threaded two together. Within moments she had a chain to place around her head. Beauty on top of beauty…
i was being held back by a chain. a chain i foolishly created myself; stupid actions and bad timing linked together keeping me from going where i wanted to, where i needed to, and where i had to. this chain was keeping me from ever feeling love or hope or purpose and i had brought it on myslef, christened my drab and meaningless life with a binding like no other. one that cant be broken as easily as it was made. i am in chains.
I woke up one morning, stepped out of bed and felt a massive weight pull me down. I tried to proceed with my day, good dressed and headed to work. Whilst there I couldn’t fathom why no one could see it, why know one would help me. Surely someone would help me remove this weight chaining me down…
The chain bit into her skin, and Christina bit back a sob. She trudged on, cursing at the uphill ground and the chains dragging her down, yet connecting her to the other prisoners.
The chain let go. Finally. She didn’t know how long she was trapped by that invisible stronghold. But she didn’t care. She was finally free – free from her own thoughts, her own mind. And it was liberating. A breath of fresh air.
She was finally free of herself.
It was a ripple effect, a chain of chilly, painful strikes flickering from one person to another. Sawyer could see it coming, even if Eric and Morgan were blind to it. She rested her hand on the balcony, overlooking the training Zander and Julian. Zander’s eyes rose to meet hers, and Sawyer drew back, suddenly stung. Something was wrong.
chain in the rain
dangling in the drain
rusting on the lane
driving me insane
chain chain chain
you are such a pain
She had one chain that led to me. I followed that chain, and her, wherever she went, the line taunt between us. One day, the chain slackened and I rushed forward only to find that there was nothing on the other side. And maybe there never was.
The chain link fence stood between me and my only means of escape. It looked like it was fifty feet high, but I knew it was only six feet. But I still couldn’t climb it. There was barbed-wire at the top that would slice me to pieces. I looked behind me at what I had to go back to and then at the fence. I took the chance.
Everyone is chained to the world. Held back by the limitations and rules the world has us following with chance of breaking the chains by which the universe has wrapped around us. Chained are we as humans.
third grade. those letters would come in the mail all the time. envelopes filled with envelopes filled with envelopes, all holding letters from superstitious children across america. how did you get my address? is it your fault i’m single now?
a chain is a chain of animal or it also sounds as chineesse or as frankling chan no se ni porque putas estoy haciendo esta mierda que tigra alchile porque estoy en stumble upon me cago en la mierda jeje que divertido escribir 60 segundos retrasados chain mi culo alchile porque alguien seria asi.
Chain. On a bike. The ones that get all broken when they come loose, and the ones that get all black and sticky and nasty whenever you touch them because of all the oil. Where the heck does that oil come from, anyway?!
Chains. Wow, when we were little we watched Shark boy and Lava girl and we thought they were cool, so my little sister was Chain Girl. She should’ve been metal girl. That would’ve been much less specific and powerful … wow, I’m rambling now. But rushwrite! I guess that’s what it is …
The chain that bounds us, invisible and unknown. Societal chains that come from everywhere, media, politics and religion. We must break free, we must be unchained from the expectation that society has pressed on us. We must break the chain.
Chains. On my ankles, on my wrists. Around my neck. Burning, ripping into my flesh. But it didn’t hurt. Not like it should have. Not with…it. Not with it flowing through my veins, numbing my emotions and senses.
But wait–what’s that? I’m sad. Frustrated. Scared. Lonely. I’m feeling them, tingling through me, and I do feel the pain. I see the blood and feel the warmth of it running down my arms and pooling beneath my heels. I raise my head and see a light, a figure.
A scientist.
How do I know this?
I don’t.
But soon he’s there, in front of me, hauling me to my feet. Pressing something against my lips. I feel something cold run down my throat, then a freedom on my wrists. Then cool air on my ankles. Then my neck. Then I’m being hauled to my feet and out the door, into a bright white room.
And then I see the glint of the syringe and see it drawing near, and I scream without meaning to. I thrash and kick and slam into the wall, something wet streaming down my cheeks.
But it’s no use, and in moments the syringe has been plunged into my forearm and I can’t feel, can’t feel, can’t feel…
And I miss it.
It’s like a chain of steel wrapped around your heart. You’re the prey of an anaconda, you’re the trash in a garbage compactor, you’re the air being let go out of someone’s lungs. Because you’re easy to give up, to conquer. You’re the unloved, the sacrificed. Without question, it’s a chain.
She has chained herself out of her own will. She is a beast of nature—an unholy creature that should have never existed.
Chain reaction cycles is a company that I buy my bike parts from. They’re fantastic, they offer great value for money and they deliver on time. They also let you return items for free if you change your mind or don’t need it. Fantastic company.
Chain also makes me think that my life is being held in place by forces I can’t change.
There is a chain link fence by the school. We climbed on it to the roof that night. I liked the way your eyes looked in the lights of the passing cars. They are milky mint green with a rusty edge I can’t stop thinking about.
link fence stood in the way of me and the heard of sheep. they were holding on to each other’s tails just like the chain link fence i was staring at. how would i get past them without them seeing me? what would they do? would they say, “what are ewe doing here?” or would they simply stand and hold onto their tails?
Blood pounded in his head when he woke up, laying on the damp floor scattered with moldy hay. The chains chafed the skin on his wrists. He squeezed his eyes shut. He had made such a stupid mistake.
I can’t stop staring at her. She can’t stop staring vacantly at the window in front of her–sliding the chain around her neck between her thumb and index finger. She stares continuously… and I want to wake her up.
chains. chains. heavy iron chains on the mechanic’s floor. i walked past heavy rusted iron chains that lied on the shop floor. i shuffled wearily past the heavy iron chains that laid on the mechanic’s shop floor.
She pulled at the chain but it wouldn’t come loose, she wasn’t strong enough. She tried to make out something, anything, and decipher where she was, but it was too dark. She slumped against the wall and wiped away the tears flowing down her face with her free hand.
…link fence was my big nightmare, but I can’t tell you why. The first house we ever bought was surrounded by it, this sharp and insistent grey stuff. Somehow they had figured it was genious to stick an extra wall of it in the middle of the yard, and it was just hideous.
chain chain chain chain of fools I love Aretha Franklin I hate chain link fence The kids and I used to make paper chains to decorate the Christmas tree each year. We would make popcorn strings too.That’s all I have so far.
As I broke apart, piece by piece, I saw all of my friends. I saw Mary, as my sympathy shattered, I saw Corinne, as my patience ruptured, I saw Eric, as my forgiveness melted. I broke. Me, the unbreakable, broke.
We’ll see about the chains, I whispered, low.
And they laughed, for they knew it wasn’t in my power to decide.
They took me to a room. It had a chair, and a rope. They tied me to it.
It was the first in a chain of events I would never have predicted.
Life can be described by a chain. Rather, chains. Because chains connect things, yes? As in a chain of events, each link representing a situation that immediately leads to the next. And yet, we don’t think about all of the implications of how many chains there actually are, and how they’re not at all separate from one another; it’s not really chains at all, but a massive web.
Her chains stretched across the room, locking her into place more securely than a thousand ton weight. Then again, they weighed about a thousand tons. There were coils and eddies of chains that shifted as she moved. Not that she did that often, even sitting the weight of them was enough to burden her almost beyond bearing. People could come and gawk, see the woman who destroyed the world, but no one asked why she was chained. It just made a good picture.
It hurt. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt before and like all of the pain I had ever felt before. I’d agreed to this. I cried out. There’s a fine line between pain and pleasure; with each of his subsequent thrusts more forceful than the previous, I knew there was a fine line. At least the chains on my wrists felt good.
Surrounding the back yard is a chain link fence. It cages us in like rats. We can see out but we can never leave. What is it like outside this confinement? Who else is out there? Why is it so important that we remain in this one place?
restaurants, markets, people, one in all, jail, guardian, key
it was my brothers gold chain. He gave it to me right as he left, my parents were insane, my Mom was depressed and my Dad was never around and all i had was my brother and when he turned 18 he left me with his gold chain, and hope that one day i would leave too. I wore the chain under my shirt everyday, it’s what kept me going.
I’m locked. Locked in. I’m frozen, tied up in these heavy chains filled with fear and blood pumping and pumping and pumping. and remorse. I hate him, but no more than I hate myself. What the fuck have I done? I can’t remember, but I know I deserve this.
Mail. Armour. Restraint. Link. Knight. Shining armour. Letter. Fence. S&m.
I was there. I was so close. Whether I did it or not didn’t matter anymore. She was dead and the chain was already broken. She was gone.
I remembered that chain he gave me, the way he gave it to me. I didn’t know the means of how he got it, but he told me to never lose it. I held it so dear, so close to me. Was it time for me to give it up? To remind myself to not be so materialistic? I miss it even more than I miss you.
An open letter to chain letters,
My email is plagued by your presence. I am at a constant battle whether to send or delete. Will I be plagued with bad luck? I’m at a loss here. You’re the devil’s mail.
Jackie
It was daisies that spread throughout the grass, and she stared in amazement. Her fingers plucked a stem and threaded two together. Within moments she had a chain to place around her head. Beauty on top of beauty…
together in a lie, they hang in a cold mess upon the cement floor. Created by man, an element that was less than unique… now left to weep
i was being held back by a chain. a chain i foolishly created myself; stupid actions and bad timing linked together keeping me from going where i wanted to, where i needed to, and where i had to. this chain was keeping me from ever feeling love or hope or purpose and i had brought it on myslef, christened my drab and meaningless life with a binding like no other. one that cant be broken as easily as it was made. i am in chains.