coma. dark. alone. stuck with yourself. stuck without yourself. is it stillness, is it subconsciousness? or is it a new reality setting in. trapped yet free. free of all the small problems. dead or alive? its hard to live with yourself when you have to live without yourself. alone. dark. coma.
“Girlfriend in a coma I know” and Morrisey kept on going for the entire night. Unstoppable while liquor was being pured into glasses and volume was rising. Someone was about to enter a coma. Someones girlfriend perhaps. Oh no, what if this is some new live Smiths stuff. Happening right now. Who knows..
I’ve seen her in coma. She was in a frightful state. I couldn’t recognize her. Was she my lover or a stranger with a eery face. I was shocked. But I couldn’t help but feel so sorry for her. I also felt guilt strangle me.
Coma’s are hard becuase the person is alive but they aren’t. Coma’s are a breeding ground for unessary hope and it kills reality. Whether we like it or not reality is the only truth we have and we shouldn’t screw with it.
I was always awake. They never helped me just rest. But I never knew the distinction. I felt like when I truly slept, I’d be tossing a ball in a circle with my friends.
I stood there staring at her. I was frozen. My arm held tightly against my chest is a sling. My head pounding from the raging head ache. How did she end up in the coma. I would have traded places with her in an instant, she was my everything
John was scared. Sherlock hadn’t woken up yet. It had been 7 days since the accident, with no signs of recovery. He was still and silent. John never left his bedside – but when he returns to an empty hospital bed one day, John will do anything he can to find Sherlock.
The news was bad. They don’t know how the accident happened but the two cars collided and although the passengers escaped without injury the driver of one of the cars was left in coma.
He ate himself into a veritable coma. He was so bloated with food that he could barely move; he simply sat, one with his overstuffed armchair, and stared at the television, which was rife with food commercials. Even though he was so full, all he could think about was more food.
“Now is our chance! They’re both out cold! They might as well be in a coma.” John rasped to Joe, who nodded, and they both edged toward their objective. Carefully, stealthily, he lowered the volume on the television, – slowly, so that they wouldn’t be woken. Delicately reconnecting a few wires, they had achieved their goal. As their parents slept on the sofa behind them, they gave thanks to the massive dinner that had put their parents out for the afternoon, and gaped in awe as the Nintendo logo appeared on the screen in front of them. Now, finally, their Christmas morning was complete!
she waits by his bedside
longing, hoping, wondering:
if this is love, do I leave or do I stay?
what if I miss the moment
when his eyelashes flutter open?
I was born on December 13, 2003 on one of the most horrible winters days. I remember seeing branches flying past the windows and rain pelting down on the roof outside. I also remember the faces of joy, of ecstatic sadness, of relief and happiness surrounding where I lay. Now, you may ask me where I got these memories from because no infant can remember their birth. The thing is, I don’t remember my birth, or my childhood, or my teenage years, or being a father: I don’t remember being a year below 28.
I was born on December 13, 2003, the day I woke up from my three month long sleep: the coma from hell.
Blue-haired girl was gone. The said she was just sleeping, but he knew what she looked like sleeping. Not like this. Now she looked like death. The coma had come after the car crash, which had come after the boyfriend. And he hadn’t been able to stop it. Not any of it.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he sobbed. “I came back for you. I love you and I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry.”
food coma. the worst disaster ever. yo u can move you can stand you can smile. all you can do is just lay there like a corpse. a corpse with no name. would be there? coma. i m having a brain coma. im running out of words. the words just got stuck.
She was in a coma after the brain surgery that lasted almost twenty four hours. And there she would stay until her heart stopped beating a few days later. What courage it must have taken for her to know she would most likely never survive, and keep a brave face for those who loved her, for her daughter who didn’t realize that the telephone conversation they had just before the surgery would be their last on this earth. What terror she must have felt those last few hours….
The sun trickles through the curtains, her alarm blares and wails and bleats, and still she sleeps. She rises from her lonely bed, sheds her nightdress, and flings herself beneath the shower’s steady stream, and still she sleeps.
She slumbers through the drive to work, the many meetings, and the constant grind. She never responds the harassment, neither the harsh words nor heavy hands. She never bats an eye. When her sister begs her to help herself, to tell someone what’s wrong, she can’t hear the desperate pleas, because still slumbers on.
In life she dreams of sleep, and in sleep she dreams of rest.
it all started when i wouldn’t say anything. i didn’t want to speak to anyone. i felt the words rushing up to the top of my throat but soon enough they would go flushing down the other direction, unable to come out. then, a coma.
He was on his own now. He had lost his father years ago—something to do with a driving accident that never failed to leave his mother sobbing whenever it was mentioned. And now here his mother lay, connected to a strange beeping machine by a tangle of wires. When he demanded to know what had caused it, the doctor looked uncomfortable. “Look, Julien, sometimes the cause isn’t as straightforward as that. Comas can happen for any number of reasons. But we’re trying our hardest to figure it out.”
she stretched her arms, the bright amber sun shown threw the window to her white hospital bed. sounds of the sirens and crashing, wrenching metal twisting came threw her mind. her ears abstinent to the noise but her mind full of it. Her chest ached, it froze like the sharp teeth of an arctic hound biting her chest. her friends, family, sisters, dead. She lived and had to live with the guild. 48 years after the accident the sound never left the earth. it hibernated in her mind and body. it sat dormant waiting like a bad dream to terrify her natural being. she wasn’t a apart of this world anymore. she was a vessel of pain for those who lay in the dark. she was a vessel for the mistakes of her past and her family. she could feel the alcohol still to this day coursing in her veins. Her life, over but continuing because god decided that she had not met her quota of torture in this life. she had lost 48 years of her life. but will spend the next few reenacting the events of 1987. she could feel the warmth of steering wheel. the pressure of the gas pressing back against her heels. her wedding dress still tight around her waist. it was all over. everything is different.
My toes were in a coma. At least it felt that way to me the moment he walked in. Coma to think of it, so was my skin, which was now frozen to the touch, as my every bit of blood rushed away from all extremities. I was in preservation mode, in a big way…
Mister Ramshackle Huxley had been in a coma for thirty-five years.
Ramshackle, obviously, was not his first name, but he was given such a title for two reasons. First of all, no one remembered his actual name, and second of all, no one believed he looked any better than ramshackle. Therefore, when he collided with a brick wall during one of his drunken motorcycle rides, no one was surprised by the reason or the outcome.
Life is such a fragile thing, isn’t it? Just one wrong turn, one mistake, then BAM, it’s changed forever. Take steve, for example. He was driving to work on January 17th, just like any other work day, when a semi smashed into him, sending him into a 13 year long coma.
Sweet serenity, sanctity of silence, but groping in the dark, cold and alone, it’s dark and there’s no end to the thoughts that poison your soul, locked inside your mind with no one but yourself, because you are your worst enemy.
He fantasized at least twice a week about waking up from a long coma or at least entering into a coma in order to avoid the (what to others seemed) trivial struggles of his week and to invoke sympathy and pity for his sudden demise all to inevitably lead to an awakening, double entendre enlisted, wherein he would change as a person because of said awakening and also startle those who had forgotten and that their feelings, whatever they were, had been and would be in the future were the only ones that mattered and that his own were completely suppressed as if his ‘truth’ (as one of recovery might put it) really were in a coma state.
coma. dark. alone. stuck with yourself. stuck without yourself. is it stillness, is it subconsciousness? or is it a new reality setting in. trapped yet free. free of all the small problems. dead or alive? its hard to live with yourself when you have to live without yourself. alone. dark. coma.
“Girlfriend in a coma I know” and Morrisey kept on going for the entire night. Unstoppable while liquor was being pured into glasses and volume was rising. Someone was about to enter a coma. Someones girlfriend perhaps. Oh no, what if this is some new live Smiths stuff. Happening right now. Who knows..
I’ve seen her in coma. She was in a frightful state. I couldn’t recognize her. Was she my lover or a stranger with a eery face. I was shocked. But I couldn’t help but feel so sorry for her. I also felt guilt strangle me.
Coma’s are hard becuase the person is alive but they aren’t. Coma’s are a breeding ground for unessary hope and it kills reality. Whether we like it or not reality is the only truth we have and we shouldn’t screw with it.
Coma? she asked, unsure if she’d heard correctly? Not comma. In a comma. That wouldn’t make much sense. But now. Now everything would change.
I was always awake. They never helped me just rest. But I never knew the distinction. I felt like when I truly slept, I’d be tossing a ball in a circle with my friends.
I stood there staring at her. I was frozen. My arm held tightly against my chest is a sling. My head pounding from the raging head ache. How did she end up in the coma. I would have traded places with her in an instant, she was my everything
John was scared. Sherlock hadn’t woken up yet. It had been 7 days since the accident, with no signs of recovery. He was still and silent. John never left his bedside – but when he returns to an empty hospital bed one day, John will do anything he can to find Sherlock.
Finals are finally over. Time for a Netflix coma. New Girl, Game of Thrones, Psych, Dexter, take me! I’m yours!
Time to free myself from this waking coma. Life awaits.
The news was bad. They don’t know how the accident happened but the two cars collided and although the passengers escaped without injury the driver of one of the cars was left in coma.
It jusst happpend. there was no warning. there never is. and what do i do. what if he never wakes up.
He ate himself into a veritable coma. He was so bloated with food that he could barely move; he simply sat, one with his overstuffed armchair, and stared at the television, which was rife with food commercials. Even though he was so full, all he could think about was more food.
One sided conversations, one sided tears, and one sided treatments.
A taste of the other side.
I was in a coma for what felt like years
sipping on corgans soma
for what felt like a mirror
I should have known better than to try and fight it
but I couldn’t stand up
A coma is a bad thing to happen to you
Everyone will suffer
If you manage to get
Everything will change
The world around was a semi transparent blur. Sounds, scents. The person moves through the universe, the crowd, wrapped in a veil of anonymity.
“Now is our chance! They’re both out cold! They might as well be in a coma.” John rasped to Joe, who nodded, and they both edged toward their objective. Carefully, stealthily, he lowered the volume on the television, – slowly, so that they wouldn’t be woken. Delicately reconnecting a few wires, they had achieved their goal. As their parents slept on the sofa behind them, they gave thanks to the massive dinner that had put their parents out for the afternoon, and gaped in awe as the Nintendo logo appeared on the screen in front of them. Now, finally, their Christmas morning was complete!
everything is hard. i feel like i died inside, no coma, nothing to breath. i tried so hard but you’ll never see me there.
she waits by his bedside
longing, hoping, wondering:
if this is love, do I leave or do I stay?
what if I miss the moment
when his eyelashes flutter open?
I was born on December 13, 2003 on one of the most horrible winters days. I remember seeing branches flying past the windows and rain pelting down on the roof outside. I also remember the faces of joy, of ecstatic sadness, of relief and happiness surrounding where I lay. Now, you may ask me where I got these memories from because no infant can remember their birth. The thing is, I don’t remember my birth, or my childhood, or my teenage years, or being a father: I don’t remember being a year below 28.
I was born on December 13, 2003, the day I woke up from my three month long sleep: the coma from hell.
Blue-haired girl was gone. The said she was just sleeping, but he knew what she looked like sleeping. Not like this. Now she looked like death. The coma had come after the car crash, which had come after the boyfriend. And he hadn’t been able to stop it. Not any of it.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he sobbed. “I came back for you. I love you and I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry.”
food coma. the worst disaster ever. yo u can move you can stand you can smile. all you can do is just lay there like a corpse. a corpse with no name. would be there? coma. i m having a brain coma. im running out of words. the words just got stuck.
She was in a coma after the brain surgery that lasted almost twenty four hours. And there she would stay until her heart stopped beating a few days later. What courage it must have taken for her to know she would most likely never survive, and keep a brave face for those who loved her, for her daughter who didn’t realize that the telephone conversation they had just before the surgery would be their last on this earth. What terror she must have felt those last few hours….
Girlfriend in a Coma by the Smiths. Melodic. Beautiful. A little straightforward.
coma… come on and hurry this timer. Two times too many have I wrote about this tool.
Dark and dismal like no other. I try to wake to no avail. My reality is nothing but a fantasy. Nothing different than before.
It is a word used in sentences to help better communicate one’s thoughts. It is a tough little grammatical tool few often know how to use correctly.
I wish my sleep quiet.
I wish I would slip into a coma during the night.
I wish I would drift out of my coma and into endless sleep.
The sun trickles through the curtains, her alarm blares and wails and bleats, and still she sleeps. She rises from her lonely bed, sheds her nightdress, and flings herself beneath the shower’s steady stream, and still she sleeps.
She slumbers through the drive to work, the many meetings, and the constant grind. She never responds the harassment, neither the harsh words nor heavy hands. She never bats an eye. When her sister begs her to help herself, to tell someone what’s wrong, she can’t hear the desperate pleas, because still slumbers on.
In life she dreams of sleep, and in sleep she dreams of rest.
coma. comatose. comma. why do they all sound so familiar. they all pause. stop. wait. that’s what i want.
it all started when i wouldn’t say anything. i didn’t want to speak to anyone. i felt the words rushing up to the top of my throat but soon enough they would go flushing down the other direction, unable to come out. then, a coma.
He was on his own now. He had lost his father years ago—something to do with a driving accident that never failed to leave his mother sobbing whenever it was mentioned. And now here his mother lay, connected to a strange beeping machine by a tangle of wires. When he demanded to know what had caused it, the doctor looked uncomfortable. “Look, Julien, sometimes the cause isn’t as straightforward as that. Comas can happen for any number of reasons. But we’re trying our hardest to figure it out.”
she stretched her arms, the bright amber sun shown threw the window to her white hospital bed. sounds of the sirens and crashing, wrenching metal twisting came threw her mind. her ears abstinent to the noise but her mind full of it. Her chest ached, it froze like the sharp teeth of an arctic hound biting her chest. her friends, family, sisters, dead. She lived and had to live with the guild. 48 years after the accident the sound never left the earth. it hibernated in her mind and body. it sat dormant waiting like a bad dream to terrify her natural being. she wasn’t a apart of this world anymore. she was a vessel of pain for those who lay in the dark. she was a vessel for the mistakes of her past and her family. she could feel the alcohol still to this day coursing in her veins. Her life, over but continuing because god decided that she had not met her quota of torture in this life. she had lost 48 years of her life. but will spend the next few reenacting the events of 1987. she could feel the warmth of steering wheel. the pressure of the gas pressing back against her heels. her wedding dress still tight around her waist. it was all over. everything is different.
My toes were in a coma. At least it felt that way to me the moment he walked in. Coma to think of it, so was my skin, which was now frozen to the touch, as my every bit of blood rushed away from all extremities. I was in preservation mode, in a big way…
Mister Ramshackle Huxley had been in a coma for thirty-five years.
Ramshackle, obviously, was not his first name, but he was given such a title for two reasons. First of all, no one remembered his actual name, and second of all, no one believed he looked any better than ramshackle. Therefore, when he collided with a brick wall during one of his drunken motorcycle rides, no one was surprised by the reason or the outcome.
Normal day. kisses, laughter, light.
car crash. sound, light, crashes, fear.
coma. black, silence, suffocating.
beep. beep. beep.
Life is such a fragile thing, isn’t it? Just one wrong turn, one mistake, then BAM, it’s changed forever. Take steve, for example. He was driving to work on January 17th, just like any other work day, when a semi smashed into him, sending him into a 13 year long coma.
Sweet serenity, sanctity of silence, but groping in the dark, cold and alone, it’s dark and there’s no end to the thoughts that poison your soul, locked inside your mind with no one but yourself, because you are your worst enemy.
He fantasized at least twice a week about waking up from a long coma or at least entering into a coma in order to avoid the (what to others seemed) trivial struggles of his week and to invoke sympathy and pity for his sudden demise all to inevitably lead to an awakening, double entendre enlisted, wherein he would change as a person because of said awakening and also startle those who had forgotten and that their feelings, whatever they were, had been and would be in the future were the only ones that mattered and that his own were completely suppressed as if his ‘truth’ (as one of recovery might put it) really were in a coma state.