I hate feeling so very dry It burns my skin and takes away my color which reminds me of my days living in the anorexic world. I suppose the word dry reminds me of anorexia. My features looked reptilian. That is a problem
I’m always dry. I don’t get wet in the rain like you do, if the rain is our relationship. You stand and dance, reveling in all we have together. I’m dry. I’m still waiting for the big moment, the lighting, when I realize that I mean it when I say, “I love you”.
The dessert was very dry. I water from the canteen was all gone. I looked up and cursed at the sun; the source of the menacing heat which was paining us so. We have been long for 3 days, and we are left with no supplies. Sure we can drink our own urine, but why would we do that? I cannot grapple with the fact that we may be dead by the end of the day. What is going to happen? The thought stays with us as we continue our last day.
dry was the one thing it wasn’t after i fell in the ocean that day, cold and wet, anxty and deprived of all things warm and comforting. All i could think of was how being cold, wet, and sandy, was actually worse than being cold and wet by them selves. However, after a few hours of being cuddled up to my friends and closer by a fire, all was well… except for that sand. Damn the beach, damn the beach to hell.
dry and your mouth crackles with empty snow.
the feilds are worn and the bland colour of corn cereals.
the water, sweet and wet, moistening the earth and sky hangs in the atmosphere, dry as a kinder. dry as timber.
The desert was as dry as could be. But what would you expect. I was even drier from having crawled the length of an entire culvert on my stomach. My horse died much earlier than I could have expected. I suppose it would have been smart to water up at Borrego
its wet outside.
but im sitting inside.
in the warm.
watching people dying outside
i however am safe
this is because i have protected my heart form any form of hurt
however i still feel hurt.
and alone
dry
dry
dry.
why does it feel like a terrible thing to be dry?
when i want to be out there loved with all the rest of the heartless people
Sense the world around you, and what obliges? Nothing. You are dry, your sense, worlds and feelings live in an empty waste, nothing to lvie for and lacks all that is needed. We call it water, sometimes, but here, life is our burden. Live to love, drink to quench.
Still dry. I don’t believe how hard it is to get wet these days. No, really. I mean, getting wet is like the most natural thing to do, right? Because if it rains, which it does quite often, really, you get wet. But I always seem to have a roof or umbrella oder my head – sucks.
dry is like the end of the space between forgiveness and forgetfulness. are you ready to accept these words, cleft from my lips like the softness of a body broken and drained? they will stick to your damp surface, for they will want to adhere to something wet and cool, they are tired of your broken requests and ending setences
it’s when sometimes you aren’t wet anymore. You just kind of.. well I don’t know.. you’re completely not full of water. you can easily get like this when you use a towel or the classic shaking of the hand. It’s quite amazing, actually. Wow. Sometimes I wonder.
“Master,I have wiped the car off with this towel,now,twice times!Yet,it still is wet!!!”
“Grasshopper,if first you don’t succeed,you must,dry,dry,and dry again.”
“Master,I have wiped the car off with this towel,now,twice times!Yet,it still is wet!!!”
“Grasshopper,if first you don’t succeed,you must,dry,dry,and dry again.”
dry is the heat outside. dry is the feeling of my skin after climbing. when things are dry, they are dead, things need wetness for life. dry are the tears of my long lost friend. and wet are the words of my new found love. with dryness we lose touch, with wetness we gain hope, like a far off rain cloud after a long heavy drought. we need the wetness to give us difference in the dry spells.
dry. The weather.
Like a distant summer.
A cool jazz breeze,
beneath the knees.
The open ended, inuendo
of dry white wine
in summer breeze.
Twisted dreams.
Dry heat.
Summers beat;
Jazz street.
My eyes are dry right now, I just woke up and it’s killing me. I hate how I have to wear contacts and then you have totally undeserving snobbish people who are perfect in every way. I wish I didn’t have bad eye sight, there are so many limitations I have because of it. I can’t wait till I get older and can get some eye surgery to fix it.
the place was windy and hot and i hated it. the heat was rising from the ground, burning through my sneaker soles and I couldn’t turn away from the sun. my friend told me, in a very dry and mock-serious voice, that we should just leave right now because nothing was worth this sort’ve weather. and i said too bad, because we live here anyway, and there’s nowhere we can go. and she told me, all right, but you hate it, it’s dry and our skins are cracking.
In a place where there is no wind, I lay down by the sand, contemplating about the sweat as it runs down my skin. I cannot stand the image of water bullets dripping on my face. This place was DRY.
My throat feels dry. I need a drink of water…anything wet. I don’t know why I’m so thirsty today. Maybe it was something I ate yesterday or today. I can’t keep drinking or I’ll have to use the bathroom all day and I may not be close to one. I always have to use the bathroom and if I drink a lot I’ll keep having to go, as usual. I wish I had something else to drink like a cool glass of lemonade that might quench my thirst and I won’t be so thirsty and my throat won’t be so dry.
The air was dry and thick with dust. Emaline could feel it creeping in between the cracks in the door of the truck, blowing in through the vents. In the seat ahead of her, her father drove forward, for what seemed like eternity.
In truth, they’d been on the road for almost a day, stopping at
Dried up like a nasty old prune. That’s how people will become if they succumb to the boringness of the world, to the apparent norms and to the way things appear to be. The lack of something more. The lack of life. So many people are dry. We need water, lots of water. And imagination!
deserts leaking dry mescaline flowers into every open jaw
mystic menstruation like a mother telling her son “hush, hush, it is only the air”
allergies, january
dry
dry
dry
dry
dry
dry
David Sedaris
I don’t like the feeling of dry sand in my belly button. It makes me feel dirty and it hurts and I don’t like it. Its like sand in your vagina no one wants it there but it gets there and thats why I hate the beach.
I woke up in the morning with a dry horrible tasting mouth. My head was pounding. If I could only vomit I would feel better. How much did i drink last night? did it matter? today was going to be tense, i could tell. i basically ditched L when i went to P’s. J will be mad at me. maybe i’ll stay in my room with the door closed. was it worth it? maybe. as horrible as that sounds…maybe it was.
we were walking in the rain for two hours. we were soaking wet by the time we got home. i would’ve given anything for dry clothes. i won’t even shower anymore…
Everything around me is dry like the sand untouched by the ocean. My mind was crusted with suicidal ideas and my mouth a desert.
I hate feeling so very dry It burns my skin and takes away my color which reminds me of my days living in the anorexic world. I suppose the word dry reminds me of anorexia. My features looked reptilian. That is a problem
I like to be dry. Being wet gives me the willies. I also prefer non-alcoholic bereverages. This gives me a greatter sense of security when I drive,
I’m always dry. I don’t get wet in the rain like you do, if the rain is our relationship. You stand and dance, reveling in all we have together. I’m dry. I’m still waiting for the big moment, the lighting, when I realize that I mean it when I say, “I love you”.
The dessert was very dry. I water from the canteen was all gone. I looked up and cursed at the sun; the source of the menacing heat which was paining us so. We have been long for 3 days, and we are left with no supplies. Sure we can drink our own urine, but why would we do that? I cannot grapple with the fact that we may be dead by the end of the day. What is going to happen? The thought stays with us as we continue our last day.
Parched. Cracked. Craving moisture…morning dew
dry was the one thing it wasn’t after i fell in the ocean that day, cold and wet, anxty and deprived of all things warm and comforting. All i could think of was how being cold, wet, and sandy, was actually worse than being cold and wet by them selves. However, after a few hours of being cuddled up to my friends and closer by a fire, all was well… except for that sand. Damn the beach, damn the beach to hell.
dry and your mouth crackles with empty snow.
the feilds are worn and the bland colour of corn cereals.
the water, sweet and wet, moistening the earth and sky hangs in the atmosphere, dry as a kinder. dry as timber.
a dry place to rest my feet. a nice and warm arm to lean on. dry your eye, tender pray, dry your eye.
The desert was as dry as could be. But what would you expect. I was even drier from having crawled the length of an entire culvert on my stomach. My horse died much earlier than I could have expected. I suppose it would have been smart to water up at Borrego
it is constantly dry outside now. The world has ceased to nurse itself; were done, were done, it’s over.
its wet outside.
but im sitting inside.
in the warm.
watching people dying outside
i however am safe
this is because i have protected my heart form any form of hurt
however i still feel hurt.
and alone
dry
dry
dry.
why does it feel like a terrible thing to be dry?
when i want to be out there loved with all the rest of the heartless people
Hard, biting
I feel the wind.
Its crisp cool touch
It burns with power.
Its dry touch
Chills me to the bone.
Sense the world around you, and what obliges? Nothing. You are dry, your sense, worlds and feelings live in an empty waste, nothing to lvie for and lacks all that is needed. We call it water, sometimes, but here, life is our burden. Live to love, drink to quench.
Still dry. I don’t believe how hard it is to get wet these days. No, really. I mean, getting wet is like the most natural thing to do, right? Because if it rains, which it does quite often, really, you get wet. But I always seem to have a roof or umbrella oder my head – sucks.
dry is like the end of the space between forgiveness and forgetfulness. are you ready to accept these words, cleft from my lips like the softness of a body broken and drained? they will stick to your damp surface, for they will want to adhere to something wet and cool, they are tired of your broken requests and ending setences
it’s when sometimes you aren’t wet anymore. You just kind of.. well I don’t know.. you’re completely not full of water. you can easily get like this when you use a towel or the classic shaking of the hand. It’s quite amazing, actually. Wow. Sometimes I wonder.
“Master,I have wiped the car off with this towel,now,twice times!Yet,it still is wet!!!”
“Grasshopper,if first you don’t succeed,you must,dry,dry,and dry again.”
“Master,I have wiped the car off with this towel,now,twice times!Yet,it still is wet!!!”
“Grasshopper,if first you don’t succeed,you must,dry,dry,and dry again.”
my head is dry, i feel alone … i feel cold when i think of this dry world
dry is the heat outside. dry is the feeling of my skin after climbing. when things are dry, they are dead, things need wetness for life. dry are the tears of my long lost friend. and wet are the words of my new found love. with dryness we lose touch, with wetness we gain hope, like a far off rain cloud after a long heavy drought. we need the wetness to give us difference in the dry spells.
rub soft dull wet boring laundry
dry. The weather.
Like a distant summer.
A cool jazz breeze,
beneath the knees.
The open ended, inuendo
of dry white wine
in summer breeze.
Twisted dreams.
Dry heat.
Summers beat;
Jazz street.
My eyes are dry right now, I just woke up and it’s killing me. I hate how I have to wear contacts and then you have totally undeserving snobbish people who are perfect in every way. I wish I didn’t have bad eye sight, there are so many limitations I have because of it. I can’t wait till I get older and can get some eye surgery to fix it.
it can be a weather which is very hot. it can be skin, hair. Peaple who dont respond are also termed as dry.
hot, crackly, gross, summer, tongue, smoking pot, dicks, drug dealers, towels, throwing up, toilets, waffles, couches, the stars, staplers, deserts, antarctica, the arctic, jak and daxter, cell phones, noses, feet, hair, oranges, lemons, sponges, dreads,
the place was windy and hot and i hated it. the heat was rising from the ground, burning through my sneaker soles and I couldn’t turn away from the sun. my friend told me, in a very dry and mock-serious voice, that we should just leave right now because nothing was worth this sort’ve weather. and i said too bad, because we live here anyway, and there’s nowhere we can go. and she told me, all right, but you hate it, it’s dry and our skins are cracking.
ha! I live in the desert. I know dry and I love it.
oh dry! Better than wet — low humidity is dry — much nicer than soggy mositure! Without moisture!
In a place where there is no wind, I lay down by the sand, contemplating about the sweat as it runs down my skin. I cannot stand the image of water bullets dripping on my face. This place was DRY.
my mouth, oh god, my mouth. i feel like i just ate sand. did i? i can’t remember. i can’t. fucking. remember.
My throat feels dry. I need a drink of water…anything wet. I don’t know why I’m so thirsty today. Maybe it was something I ate yesterday or today. I can’t keep drinking or I’ll have to use the bathroom all day and I may not be close to one. I always have to use the bathroom and if I drink a lot I’ll keep having to go, as usual. I wish I had something else to drink like a cool glass of lemonade that might quench my thirst and I won’t be so thirsty and my throat won’t be so dry.
The air was dry and thick with dust. Emaline could feel it creeping in between the cracks in the door of the truck, blowing in through the vents. In the seat ahead of her, her father drove forward, for what seemed like eternity.
In truth, they’d been on the road for almost a day, stopping at
nothing. one word might make huge difference, and one word might make no difference at all.
Dried up like a nasty old prune. That’s how people will become if they succumb to the boringness of the world, to the apparent norms and to the way things appear to be. The lack of something more. The lack of life. So many people are dry. We need water, lots of water. And imagination!
deserts leaking dry mescaline flowers into every open jaw
mystic menstruation like a mother telling her son “hush, hush, it is only the air”
allergies, january
dry
dry
dry
dry
dry
dry
David Sedaris
I don’t like the feeling of dry sand in my belly button. It makes me feel dirty and it hurts and I don’t like it. Its like sand in your vagina no one wants it there but it gets there and thats why I hate the beach.
is my skin, yet i simply don’t give a damn to do anything about it today. the whole thing seems so insignificant when compared to the problems today.
I woke up in the morning with a dry horrible tasting mouth. My head was pounding. If I could only vomit I would feel better. How much did i drink last night? did it matter? today was going to be tense, i could tell. i basically ditched L when i went to P’s. J will be mad at me. maybe i’ll stay in my room with the door closed. was it worth it? maybe. as horrible as that sounds…maybe it was.
we were walking in the rain for two hours. we were soaking wet by the time we got home. i would’ve given anything for dry clothes. i won’t even shower anymore…