Ilia wrapped himself in a scratchy blanket from the cell’s floor and listened as his grandfather told the history of his pocketwatch to the guard. The watch was the last piece of valuable property Ilia’s grandfather owned, and the only thing he had left to trade for Ilia’s freedom.
that really itches. the word itch reminds me of scratchy. or sweaters that are very uncomfortable. like brillo bad. there the steel wool things that you clean plates with. thats what the texture of the sweater would be. maybe poison ivy or something along the lines. thats not a very good word at all. it doesnt
When I get a craving for something. An itch inside for excitement, for something new and promising to happen. I get an itch for change. Good change. Tattooing my body change. Dying my hair change. And sometimes big change, but thats rare.
i kept scratching and it never went away. under the skin and down to the bone. it never let go of my own home. but the sensation of relief was the gift, and the pain was the itch.
I have an itch to scratch–an a twitching, writhing mass of irritation located dead-center in my brain compelling me to crawl out of my flesh. Too much caffeine, I’d say.
my leg is red and flakey. The itch there won’t quit. It lingers, urging my fingers closer, drawing them near. its like electricity, I can feel it surging through my skin as my nails stretch it taut, then loose, taut then loose.
Six years old in the grass running and rolling around, toes wiggling deep in mud as you pat perfect pies between dirty hands, running, sweating, jumping rope, flowers blooming, mosquitoes biting and then and then, at night, the itnching begins.
Itch is the most irritating feeling that one can ever have. If it appears, the only way that one can do is to relieve it with pain so that you won’t feel it anymore. It will be replaced by pain! Isn’t that annoying?
Itching in my nose is the worst when I’m making a sandwich at subway. Well, I won’t have to worry about that anymore because I was laid off recently. Now I’m kind of stuck between going out job hunting and waiting for my check to come in…fully knowing that a job is probably going to open up in October at my dad’s computer shop.
This was pretty fucking boring. My brother is a runner up in the Moondance film festival short screenplay thing.
at first, it was small, the itch. later, it grew and became more a part of my minute by minute existence. at first, i focused elsewhere, trying to pretend it wasn’t there, that i could banish it by thinking of other things. i could defeat this urge, this need.
thing is, it didn’t stop.
i had to scratch that itch….
….so,i turned on the sci fi channel..on a saturday, when the films tend to be really, really crap.
It’s an itch, pushing, nudging, a sense in the back of the brain that leads me to doing, to exploring, to being something new. It encourages me to write, to work that itch of an idea into something new, something lasting, something sustainable. Something that wasn’t there before. If God made the world, it must have come as an itch.
her brain itched. that was weird, how exactly did a brain itch? she tried scratching her head, but it didn’t work.
itch.
my brain itches. that’s not normal.
i think it itches so much because…. well…. i think it itches so much because i’m allergic to the cologne you wear.
and i think about you so much.
It was an itch I couldn’t scratch. A thought on the tip of my tongue. Where had I seen him before? Where? I couldn’t figure it out. As he walked away I remembered. The man from my dreams. They had been dreams, hadn’t they?
I was asleep and all alone in my room one night… i could hear it around my ears… it touched me a few times… it kept coming, more forceful, and then bit me… THAT STUPID MOSQUITO! now my skin has such an irritable itch!
I had this itch I couldn’t seem to scratch. I had to see her, to hold her, to smell her. Ah, but who doesn’t have that. That one little thing they have to own. That one simple thing they can’t let go of. For some it’s drugs, for me it was her. She was my methamphetamine. My pure high.
many times I have an itch that I just ignore until finally I notice it’s bleeding. I think an itch on my skin can be a metaphor for an itch in my life plan that I’m ignoring.
some people develop itches that are the figment of their delirious neurons and can scratch themselves to death through bones and arteries. i hear buzzes and ringings that are the figment of my delirious neurons and sometimes wonder if they will drive me to insanity.
-ycoo park
all the hoi polloi
the hoidy doidy
the polyester paisley
college prep preppers
in their calomine
waders
we instigate
by push & shove,
we enable
with
copious mongrel effluence
we envision
the better days
through the hi
dee-hos of our
eternal youth.
I’ve got an itch that I just can’t scratch. It isn’t a physical itch. It’s something that stays in the back of my mind and plagues me. It makes me think of all the things I’ve done in the past that have been wrong. Things I can’t make right, so for that reason they will always bother me.
my leg itches, what does that mean? my mom always had these weird things like if you foot itched you would receive a lot of money, i wonder if there was one for leg itching? how cool would it be if it meant something totally random.
I have an itch that I can’t reach. It is right there in the small of my back. No higher than that. Arrgghhh! I wish, I wish that I could reach that itch. If only there was someone here to scratch it for me. My wife is not here. My duaghter is in the other room. My four month old just can’t do it. What will I do?
I LOVE IT WHEN I CAN FINALLY SCRATCH AN ITCH YOU KNOW? IT’S PROBABLY THE BEST FEELING IN THE WHOLE WORLD. WHEN I WAS A KID I GOT POISON IVY EVERY SUMMER AND I WOULD ALWAYS HAVE THE MOST TERRIBLE TIME SUFFICING IT ALL
itch is a fucking thing that irritates you and forces you to rub on the surface of the skin where it is happening and it can be prevented by various maethods such as drying and other methods..
Itches can be caused by flees.
Flee the police station, you criminal…
Records are what you use to play music…
lessons are what I took for pianos…
Sound so sweet when someone plays on them.
I want to grab her, hold her in my arms, kiss her. My fingers twitch, itching to do so, but I hold myself steady. I won’t betray her trust like that. Even if it hurts to just stand there and watch her. Watch her beautiful gray eyes dance in the light. Watch her red lips turn upward in a light smile.
Ilia wrapped himself in a scratchy blanket from the cell’s floor and listened as his grandfather told the history of his pocketwatch to the guard. The watch was the last piece of valuable property Ilia’s grandfather owned, and the only thing he had left to trade for Ilia’s freedom.
that really itches. the word itch reminds me of scratchy. or sweaters that are very uncomfortable. like brillo bad. there the steel wool things that you clean plates with. thats what the texture of the sweater would be. maybe poison ivy or something along the lines. thats not a very good word at all. it doesnt
When I get a craving for something. An itch inside for excitement, for something new and promising to happen. I get an itch for change. Good change. Tattooing my body change. Dying my hair change. And sometimes big change, but thats rare.
i kept scratching and it never went away. under the skin and down to the bone. it never let go of my own home. but the sensation of relief was the gift, and the pain was the itch.
itch. like the way my arm itches.
Ichy but you can’t scratch it. Having ichy feet is torture!
scritch scratch, scritch scratch – goes the little beetle along the floor of the sand castle house on the edge of the western divide.
I have an itch to scratch–an a twitching, writhing mass of irritation located dead-center in my brain compelling me to crawl out of my flesh. Too much caffeine, I’d say.
my leg is red and flakey. The itch there won’t quit. It lingers, urging my fingers closer, drawing them near. its like electricity, I can feel it surging through my skin as my nails stretch it taut, then loose, taut then loose.
Six years old in the grass running and rolling around, toes wiggling deep in mud as you pat perfect pies between dirty hands, running, sweating, jumping rope, flowers blooming, mosquitoes biting and then and then, at night, the itnching begins.
Itch is the most irritating feeling that one can ever have. If it appears, the only way that one can do is to relieve it with pain so that you won’t feel it anymore. It will be replaced by pain! Isn’t that annoying?
Itching in my nose is the worst when I’m making a sandwich at subway. Well, I won’t have to worry about that anymore because I was laid off recently. Now I’m kind of stuck between going out job hunting and waiting for my check to come in…fully knowing that a job is probably going to open up in October at my dad’s computer shop.
This was pretty fucking boring. My brother is a runner up in the Moondance film festival short screenplay thing.
at first, it was small, the itch. later, it grew and became more a part of my minute by minute existence. at first, i focused elsewhere, trying to pretend it wasn’t there, that i could banish it by thinking of other things. i could defeat this urge, this need.
thing is, it didn’t stop.
i had to scratch that itch….
….so,i turned on the sci fi channel..on a saturday, when the films tend to be really, really crap.
it’s an addiction.
It’s an itch, pushing, nudging, a sense in the back of the brain that leads me to doing, to exploring, to being something new. It encourages me to write, to work that itch of an idea into something new, something lasting, something sustainable. Something that wasn’t there before. If God made the world, it must have come as an itch.
beneath the skin,
you can’t escape it,
it burrows and twists;
that thing we call an itch.
her brain itched. that was weird, how exactly did a brain itch? she tried scratching her head, but it didn’t work.
itch.
my brain itches. that’s not normal.
i think it itches so much because…. well…. i think it itches so much because i’m allergic to the cologne you wear.
and i think about you so much.
it’s making my brain itch.
i still love you.
I had an itch that couldn’t be scratched – a tortuous, persistent, nagging, infuriating itch. Why me???
It was an itch I couldn’t scratch. A thought on the tip of my tongue. Where had I seen him before? Where? I couldn’t figure it out. As he walked away I remembered. The man from my dreams. They had been dreams, hadn’t they?
I was asleep and all alone in my room one night… i could hear it around my ears… it touched me a few times… it kept coming, more forceful, and then bit me… THAT STUPID MOSQUITO! now my skin has such an irritable itch!
itch scratch, scrippity scrap. thats what a scratchin’ is all about. haha. my brain itches, and more when i think.
The irresistible feeling from your knee, the thought in the back of your brain that wants to be free, the need to travel to learn to be who you are.
I had this itch I couldn’t seem to scratch. I had to see her, to hold her, to smell her. Ah, but who doesn’t have that. That one little thing they have to own. That one simple thing they can’t let go of. For some it’s drugs, for me it was her. She was my methamphetamine. My pure high.
many times I have an itch that I just ignore until finally I notice it’s bleeding. I think an itch on my skin can be a metaphor for an itch in my life plan that I’m ignoring.
Aching… This heat is a fire of ignorant histamines.
And so I medicate with some light scratching.
Slowly the sensation travels outward across my body, and I am soothed once again.
itch pitch stitch ditch kitsch witch which bitch rich glitch hitch
some people develop itches that are the figment of their delirious neurons and can scratch themselves to death through bones and arteries. i hear buzzes and ringings that are the figment of my delirious neurons and sometimes wonder if they will drive me to insanity.
The itch itched. It itched like an itch that you really really needed to scratch. So guess what? I scratched it.
Ah! Goddamn bugs!
Making me so damn itchy. Christ!!!
AHHH!
*slap*
-ycoo park
all the hoi polloi
the hoidy doidy
the polyester paisley
college prep preppers
in their calomine
waders
we instigate
by push & shove,
we enable
with
copious mongrel effluence
we envision
the better days
through the hi
dee-hos of our
eternal youth.
Scratching audibly, skin falls away from her dry wrist. It’s like snow, she smiles to herself. Disgusting snow.
Around her heart there is an … irritation. Julian is the cause, she knows that. But as for what while stop the constant palpitations of her heart?
Unknown.
This itch may not have a cure.
I’ve got an itch that I just can’t scratch. It isn’t a physical itch. It’s something that stays in the back of my mind and plagues me. It makes me think of all the things I’ve done in the past that have been wrong. Things I can’t make right, so for that reason they will always bother me.
my leg itches, what does that mean? my mom always had these weird things like if you foot itched you would receive a lot of money, i wonder if there was one for leg itching? how cool would it be if it meant something totally random.
I have an itch that I can’t reach. It is right there in the small of my back. No higher than that. Arrgghhh! I wish, I wish that I could reach that itch. If only there was someone here to scratch it for me. My wife is not here. My duaghter is in the other room. My four month old just can’t do it. What will I do?
I LOVE IT WHEN I CAN FINALLY SCRATCH AN ITCH YOU KNOW? IT’S PROBABLY THE BEST FEELING IN THE WHOLE WORLD. WHEN I WAS A KID I GOT POISON IVY EVERY SUMMER AND I WOULD ALWAYS HAVE THE MOST TERRIBLE TIME SUFFICING IT ALL
i itch constantly i have eczema it is the worst thing i have ever had to deal with. no one understands how crazy itching can make you.
Having an itch can be so annoying. It seems like you start to itch in one place that you start to itch in another place.
itch is a fucking thing that irritates you and forces you to rub on the surface of the skin where it is happening and it can be prevented by various maethods such as drying and other methods..
Itches can be caused by flees.
Flee the police station, you criminal…
Records are what you use to play music…
lessons are what I took for pianos…
Sound so sweet when someone plays on them.
I want to grab her, hold her in my arms, kiss her. My fingers twitch, itching to do so, but I hold myself steady. I won’t betray her trust like that. Even if it hurts to just stand there and watch her. Watch her beautiful gray eyes dance in the light. Watch her red lips turn upward in a light smile.