I always wear skirts, it’s true, but denim is the best choice for them as much as it is for pants. People really should stop asking me about that. It’s not really strange, right?
There is denim plastered to your thighs, and that means I can look without tripping over my tongue, but my head feels kind of heavy, and my fingers are tingling, and I think maybe that denim layer needs to go.
Where do my creative juices go? Do they roll down the nerves in my fingertips, drool unto the keyboard, seeping into the recesses of the keys and flow down into the computer? There is a texture that acts like a map. Like denim jeans they have grooves and purposeful wears. As a texture, we act into it, as we have contact with it. Where does my inspiration go, perhaps into the casual – into the denim?
Gosh. The things I hate about denim. When people where it as ANYTHING other than their blue jeans. Ugh, it just drives me nuts. I love blue jeans, especially if they are skinny jeans. They fit nicely in boots. When someone has a purse made out of denim it makes me want to kick them square in their goofy face.
She grates her fingers against her lover’s skin and tugs against the belt loops of her jeans. Jaimine looks up in surprise to her girlfriend’s pleading expression, her fingertips brushing underneath sensitive areas. She bites her lip as her careful nails dig slightly into reddening skin and she sighs into a mouth that is not her own, but she wants to keep nonetheless.
The way it hugs you at the right angles. I see you from my locker. The way it seems like you’ve been asked to model those jeans. It gets me every time. How you make everything seem so seductive. It’s one of those things I can’t have. And you’re one of it. You’reon
I love denim jeans. Comfortable and easy care, they have been a popular item of clothing for decades. Denim shirts are also very popular and in high demand as denim is used in casual attire.
Denim. Denim denim denim. Well really, I don’t know. First thing that comes to my head is “bikers”, obviously. Then pants. Then bags… then snakes. I really don’t know how it got from denim to snakes, but you know. ‘Tis my mind. I have to bear with it.
My eyes are shut closed
instead of listening, to the mind tricks of music flicking at my spine
I’m falling asleep
I’m falling into the place
Where nothing goes on
in some seconds it feels
Like you take place in this unlively centre
where the list of corners we need to meander into
Becomes too long a list to pass through
And you crawl out one side
while I sit,
(i’m probably crying, I’ve always been good at
Sorry
[at letting go and saying go]
And looking back to kiss cold windowpanes
like I never did your lips)
and my caught up glory and beautiful dress up world
Dissolves into tired and slouching
and then into something that was
But never really was
His denim was tight and seductive as it rubbed against his girlfriends thighs. She adored his flashy look but also sweet nature. It wa sher first time approaching him in onths, but she didnt regret it. His name was Tommy, and she wished he would have been there sooner. He had gorgeous brown eyes and dark black hair, that was perfect compared to his tan skin. I touched his face with my small hand as his lips sucked my jawline. I moaned involuntarily as his fingers crawled down my panties and slowly massaged the inlines of my pussy. I quickly slipped his denim pants off, my palm rubbing against his hard dick. I beg
Pants made of denim are only one of the fashionable pieces of clothing available wherever there is clothing store or in the malls. Pants are notthe only denim there is. Fashion. Why do lots of people think only about their appearances? Why do they care if your clothing is expensive or not? Does it really matter? What matters to you the most?
Your denim clothes that you cannot let go of? Why is it more important than people who are hungry? People who cannot buy clothes at all? Why only think of yourself better than thinking of other people.
The whole group was wearing denim; shorts, miniskirts, and tight sleeveless waistcoats. And cowboy boots. They looked kind of sexy, but I was surprised to see them dressed like that at a senate hearing!
Sophisticated as he is, he wears jeans every now and then. I’ve studied them. Dark denim, straight leg, faded indentations on the side. Of course they look good on him, but they stand alone in my mind whenever I’m daydreaming about his allure; almost as if they are a symbol of him. He wanted to buy me a pair, but denim is too stiff for me to wear. Also I’m not comfortable accepting gifts from people. I still live with my parents, it’s not working out; I moved back with them to save money for an apartment. In anguish after yet another heated argument with my parents, about the statistics of my life thus far, I study our dining room ceiling. There’s cracks in the ceiling; they remind me of my boyfriend’s denim jeans. I remember all the ways that he tries to make me laugh, and I suddenly feel joyful. All the pain from the war with my parents has rushed out of me, and gone away. I have to call him. I might just tell him that I love him.
the cheap denim rubbed against her tired skin as they lay in a layer of reminiscence and deliriousness. He watched the elegant green flicker in her eyes as he spoke about his mother and how brilliant she was.
When I first saw her, she was wearing denim shorts. It was raining.
It was ages until I saw her again, for the last time, but she was wearing the denim shorts again. The same ones. It was raining, too.
Weird how the rain was the same rain that I met her in. It was also the same rain when I died.
The last thing I remembered was not her, though. It was the angels.
When I first saw her, she was wearing denim shorts. It was raining.
It was ages until I saw her again, for the last time, but she was wearing the denim shorts again. The same ones. It was raining, too.
Weird how the rain was the same rain that I met her in. It was also the same rain when I died.
The patron was wearing denim jeans, a denim jacket, denim boot tops, and a denim knapsack, slung over her shoulder. I looked down at her feet quickly to see if her boots themselves were made of denim, but I snapped my eyes upward quickly as she cleared her throat.
“Dry cup for me, barkeep,” she rasped, harboring the distinct voice of a twenty-year smoker. “It’s been a long drive.”
denim jeans live like people
comparing themselves
are they better?
do they have more stains then other jeans?
less stains?
holes?
or no holes?
what about paint? (those owners try too hard)
i am the “chocolate stain breed” of jeans
that might be one of the worst
but hey, at least it’s not blood stains….
those jeans really have it bad
by Brittany (you can call me britt if you want or don't i do not care whatsoever) on 11.09.2013
denim on denim on demin on denims on jackets on flesh
and eyes to pluck and teeth to shine
where is thy lustre now
for skin on skin on demin on denim on denim
hats and blue
indigo
warfare and ships
denim on denim
skin on fake tanned skin on denim
on denim on denim on denim on denim
Why do you completely build me up,
heal me,
then undo it all? All the doubts
I’ve finally eliminated,
you rebuild.
I want you in the here and now,
stop taking me to the then and doubts.
Aria had always like denim. There was something about the fabric, its feel, that made her enjoy it. People talked about it as if it was just a temporary fad, a part of their pasts that they regretted instantly when flipping through pictures. But to her it was more than that. It was a memory, not quite faded. It was what she remembered her mom wore and her sister fought her for. She was only five, but she sported multiple denim jackets, dresses, skirts, you name it. And it was special to her.
Aria had always like denim. There was something about the fabric, its feel, that made her enjoy it. People talked about it as if it was just a temporary fad, a part of their pasts that they regretted instantly when flipping through pictures. But to her it was more than that.
The feeling of denim against my skin somehow always reminds me of classrooms in the winter time. I guess because if I’m anywhere else, I’m not wearing denim.
The number on the inside decides how much I’ll eat tonight. The price on the tag will decide how many meals I skip. One meal per ten dollars, each dollar a liability to the next.
Denim reminds me of 1970’s cowboy outfits. Long denim patchwork and vests for the girls and tight tight jeans for the boys. I find this word depressing somehow.
She was just the same as I remembered. Long legs clad in aged blue denim, tanned skin peeking out from beneath her white-tanktop-and-flannel combo, and her hair, still long and sunshine-gold, pulled back in a loose pony. But it was her eyes that got me, piercing and blue as they danced beneath the brim of her daddy’s old black Stetson, which she tipped in my direction. “How’s it going, Becky?” she drawled, cherry-red lips pulled back in an all-to-familiar smirk. “Been a long time,”
“Not long enough,”
blue, sea blue, its the ocean put down through the sweat of a young slave boy; the slave boy with chocolate skin to combat the navy of the corporation that keeps him in chain every day. it’s chains made of debt, snaking through the slum streets, down past the brothers the boy will work in in three years time.
I bought her pink denim jeans for her third birthday. I know when she’s older, she’ll look back at the pictures and cringe, but they hold memories for me somehow. Of those cerise jeans that take me through that one summer. Back when coloured denim was cool, there were no hard and fast fashion rules, and we had the whole of our lives ahead of us.
The rusted blue jeans that he used to wear hang wearily. Draped loosely they cry, for they know they shall never be worn again. None shall see them. None shall hold them. None slide through their feelings. Nothing is held here for them, and so they drift off and on.
When I think of denim, the first thing that comes to my mind is jeans. Jeans are a very useful article of clothing for a number of reasons. One reason is that they’re practical. They can be worn in many day to day situations, whether you are going for a casual look or a relaxed, professional look. Another reason is that they’re comfortable.
denim jeans. I need to own more of them. I have 2 pairs of jeans and wear the hell out of them. Id like to get more that fit me well and dress trhem up. wear them with heels and cute tops -try to make myself look younger, lol
American blue beauty dressed naturally cotton soft store bought comfortable true everyone is eyeing you made to believe not fake even if there is a hint of spandex incased in the weaves of your threads spend a fortune on the latest fashion just to be hip ready for action these blue beauties grew up from the ground now watch them spin round and round the washing machine and dryer starch and iron them so they’ll stand up straighter faded holes cut off to show only the parts that a lover needs to know theses denim jeans aren’t fit for the queen yet in America they are seen on every television screen screaming of freedom and wealth look at the piles on The Gap’s store shelf stacked so neat and pretty but finding in fitting your size as the manufactures fib on the real size that they cut each year it’s quite clear that they make numbers up just so Americans will spend bug bucks on the latest and greatest blue dreaming jeans
I looked down at my shoes, which were partially covered with the blue denim of my jeans. I took his silence as a no.
I always wear skirts, it’s true, but denim is the best choice for them as much as it is for pants. People really should stop asking me about that. It’s not really strange, right?
The scent of unwashed denim and gasoline stuck in her nostrils, thick and unpleasant.
There is denim plastered to your thighs, and that means I can look without tripping over my tongue, but my head feels kind of heavy, and my fingers are tingling, and I think maybe that denim layer needs to go.
White denim…
Has a new blue feeling
Still it’s not as slick as porcelain
Where do my creative juices go? Do they roll down the nerves in my fingertips, drool unto the keyboard, seeping into the recesses of the keys and flow down into the computer? There is a texture that acts like a map. Like denim jeans they have grooves and purposeful wears. As a texture, we act into it, as we have contact with it. Where does my inspiration go, perhaps into the casual – into the denim?
Gosh. The things I hate about denim. When people where it as ANYTHING other than their blue jeans. Ugh, it just drives me nuts. I love blue jeans, especially if they are skinny jeans. They fit nicely in boots. When someone has a purse made out of denim it makes me want to kick them square in their goofy face.
She grates her fingers against her lover’s skin and tugs against the belt loops of her jeans. Jaimine looks up in surprise to her girlfriend’s pleading expression, her fingertips brushing underneath sensitive areas. She bites her lip as her careful nails dig slightly into reddening skin and she sighs into a mouth that is not her own, but she wants to keep nonetheless.
Sturdy cotton textile, blue colored; usually used to make jeans and jackets.
The way it hugs you at the right angles. I see you from my locker. The way it seems like you’ve been asked to model those jeans. It gets me every time. How you make everything seem so seductive. It’s one of those things I can’t have. And you’re one of it. You’reon
blue denim is the hellish office of the world
black is better
but even the word denim itself is distressing and that pun wasn’t intended; okay
I love denim jeans. Comfortable and easy care, they have been a popular item of clothing for decades. Denim shirts are also very popular and in high demand as denim is used in casual attire.
Denim. Denim denim denim. Well really, I don’t know. First thing that comes to my head is “bikers”, obviously. Then pants. Then bags… then snakes. I really don’t know how it got from denim to snakes, but you know. ‘Tis my mind. I have to bear with it.
My eyes are shut closed
instead of listening, to the mind tricks of music flicking at my spine
I’m falling asleep
I’m falling into the place
Where nothing goes on
in some seconds it feels
Like you take place in this unlively centre
where the list of corners we need to meander into
Becomes too long a list to pass through
And you crawl out one side
while I sit,
(i’m probably crying, I’ve always been good at
Sorry
[at letting go and saying go]
And looking back to kiss cold windowpanes
like I never did your lips)
and my caught up glory and beautiful dress up world
Dissolves into tired and slouching
and then into something that was
But never really was
His denim was tight and seductive as it rubbed against his girlfriends thighs. She adored his flashy look but also sweet nature. It wa sher first time approaching him in onths, but she didnt regret it. His name was Tommy, and she wished he would have been there sooner. He had gorgeous brown eyes and dark black hair, that was perfect compared to his tan skin. I touched his face with my small hand as his lips sucked my jawline. I moaned involuntarily as his fingers crawled down my panties and slowly massaged the inlines of my pussy. I quickly slipped his denim pants off, my palm rubbing against his hard dick. I beg
Pants made of denim are only one of the fashionable pieces of clothing available wherever there is clothing store or in the malls. Pants are notthe only denim there is. Fashion. Why do lots of people think only about their appearances? Why do they care if your clothing is expensive or not? Does it really matter? What matters to you the most?
Your denim clothes that you cannot let go of? Why is it more important than people who are hungry? People who cannot buy clothes at all? Why only think of yourself better than thinking of other people.
The whole group was wearing denim; shorts, miniskirts, and tight sleeveless waistcoats. And cowboy boots. They looked kind of sexy, but I was surprised to see them dressed like that at a senate hearing!
Sophisticated as he is, he wears jeans every now and then. I’ve studied them. Dark denim, straight leg, faded indentations on the side. Of course they look good on him, but they stand alone in my mind whenever I’m daydreaming about his allure; almost as if they are a symbol of him. He wanted to buy me a pair, but denim is too stiff for me to wear. Also I’m not comfortable accepting gifts from people. I still live with my parents, it’s not working out; I moved back with them to save money for an apartment. In anguish after yet another heated argument with my parents, about the statistics of my life thus far, I study our dining room ceiling. There’s cracks in the ceiling; they remind me of my boyfriend’s denim jeans. I remember all the ways that he tries to make me laugh, and I suddenly feel joyful. All the pain from the war with my parents has rushed out of me, and gone away. I have to call him. I might just tell him that I love him.
the cheap denim rubbed against her tired skin as they lay in a layer of reminiscence and deliriousness. He watched the elegant green flicker in her eyes as he spoke about his mother and how brilliant she was.
When I first saw her, she was wearing denim shorts. It was raining.
It was ages until I saw her again, for the last time, but she was wearing the denim shorts again. The same ones. It was raining, too.
Weird how the rain was the same rain that I met her in. It was also the same rain when I died.
The last thing I remembered was not her, though. It was the angels.
When I first saw her, she was wearing denim shorts. It was raining.
It was ages until I saw her again, for the last time, but she was wearing the denim shorts again. The same ones. It was raining, too.
Weird how the rain was the same rain that I met her in. It was also the same rain when I died.
The patron was wearing denim jeans, a denim jacket, denim boot tops, and a denim knapsack, slung over her shoulder. I looked down at her feet quickly to see if her boots themselves were made of denim, but I snapped my eyes upward quickly as she cleared her throat.
“Dry cup for me, barkeep,” she rasped, harboring the distinct voice of a twenty-year smoker. “It’s been a long drive.”
denim jeans live like people
comparing themselves
are they better?
do they have more stains then other jeans?
less stains?
holes?
or no holes?
what about paint? (those owners try too hard)
i am the “chocolate stain breed” of jeans
that might be one of the worst
but hey, at least it’s not blood stains….
those jeans really have it bad
denim on denim on demin on denims on jackets on flesh
and eyes to pluck and teeth to shine
where is thy lustre now
for skin on skin on demin on denim on denim
hats and blue
indigo
warfare and ships
denim on denim
skin on fake tanned skin on denim
on denim on denim on denim on denim
Why do you completely build me up,
heal me,
then undo it all? All the doubts
I’ve finally eliminated,
you rebuild.
I want you in the here and now,
stop taking me to the then and doubts.
Aria had always like denim. There was something about the fabric, its feel, that made her enjoy it. People talked about it as if it was just a temporary fad, a part of their pasts that they regretted instantly when flipping through pictures. But to her it was more than that. It was a memory, not quite faded. It was what she remembered her mom wore and her sister fought her for. She was only five, but she sported multiple denim jackets, dresses, skirts, you name it. And it was special to her.
Aria had always like denim. There was something about the fabric, its feel, that made her enjoy it. People talked about it as if it was just a temporary fad, a part of their pasts that they regretted instantly when flipping through pictures. But to her it was more than that.
The feeling of denim against my skin somehow always reminds me of classrooms in the winter time. I guess because if I’m anywhere else, I’m not wearing denim.
rustic tho not russet usually blue. not for me wouldna suit.
must ave a rethink a true n blue re-estimation. Is this
by any chance an ad?
The number on the inside decides how much I’ll eat tonight. The price on the tag will decide how many meals I skip. One meal per ten dollars, each dollar a liability to the next.
I found anonymity in denim.
Denim reminds me of 1970’s cowboy outfits. Long denim patchwork and vests for the girls and tight tight jeans for the boys. I find this word depressing somehow.
She was just the same as I remembered. Long legs clad in aged blue denim, tanned skin peeking out from beneath her white-tanktop-and-flannel combo, and her hair, still long and sunshine-gold, pulled back in a loose pony. But it was her eyes that got me, piercing and blue as they danced beneath the brim of her daddy’s old black Stetson, which she tipped in my direction. “How’s it going, Becky?” she drawled, cherry-red lips pulled back in an all-to-familiar smirk. “Been a long time,”
“Not long enough,”
blue, sea blue, its the ocean put down through the sweat of a young slave boy; the slave boy with chocolate skin to combat the navy of the corporation that keeps him in chain every day. it’s chains made of debt, snaking through the slum streets, down past the brothers the boy will work in in three years time.
I bought her pink denim jeans for her third birthday. I know when she’s older, she’ll look back at the pictures and cringe, but they hold memories for me somehow. Of those cerise jeans that take me through that one summer. Back when coloured denim was cool, there were no hard and fast fashion rules, and we had the whole of our lives ahead of us.
The rusted blue jeans that he used to wear hang wearily. Draped loosely they cry, for they know they shall never be worn again. None shall see them. None shall hold them. None slide through their feelings. Nothing is held here for them, and so they drift off and on.
When I think of denim, the first thing that comes to my mind is jeans. Jeans are a very useful article of clothing for a number of reasons. One reason is that they’re practical. They can be worn in many day to day situations, whether you are going for a casual look or a relaxed, professional look. Another reason is that they’re comfortable.
denim jeans. I need to own more of them. I have 2 pairs of jeans and wear the hell out of them. Id like to get more that fit me well and dress trhem up. wear them with heels and cute tops -try to make myself look younger, lol
American blue beauty dressed naturally cotton soft store bought comfortable true everyone is eyeing you made to believe not fake even if there is a hint of spandex incased in the weaves of your threads spend a fortune on the latest fashion just to be hip ready for action these blue beauties grew up from the ground now watch them spin round and round the washing machine and dryer starch and iron them so they’ll stand up straighter faded holes cut off to show only the parts that a lover needs to know theses denim jeans aren’t fit for the queen yet in America they are seen on every television screen screaming of freedom and wealth look at the piles on The Gap’s store shelf stacked so neat and pretty but finding in fitting your size as the manufactures fib on the real size that they cut each year it’s quite clear that they make numbers up just so Americans will spend bug bucks on the latest and greatest blue dreaming jeans
Denim is the most exotic fabric people can wear and even has a song written about it Black denim jeans