arm pit. sand pits. i cant think. this words does not bring me joy. heartfelt things. ugly. a pretty lavender color. what.; this is wierd. if i dont spell things write it is because im not thinking. what am i doing, not thinking? or am i thinking.
He had lost it. His mind had been devoured, deep into the pits of hell. Well not really hell, just the confines of his childhood home. They say that once you leave you can never really come back home, and now he understood exactly what that saying meant.
Dents in the ground. Dug out in their quest for wealth and with it, power. They don’t care for the landscape they are destroying, for the wounds they are inflicting upon the earth.
Things like apricot pits, sour things that make your eyes scrunch up in utter distaste. They taste like a bitter summer day, so hot it gives the air an edge; an edge you don’t like.
Arms. Smelly. Gross. Ew. Eh. Pit stains. Pat fell in the pit. Pat fell in the pit at the bottom of the well. Pete found pat in the pit of the well at the bottom of the hell. Pat was wet.
Pits. The pits of a cherry always surprise me; every time. The pits are a tiny, hard, simple reminder that even the most beautiful and natural creations are not perfect. Cherry Pits.
Hmm what comes to mind about pits. Arm pits is a given. But what about cherry pits. The hard little surprise in the center of a beautiful red cherry to remind you that even something so small and beautiful has its imperfections. Cherry pits.
i may have fallen from your good graces but i know need i will return from this pit with new devices, dreams ,grander schemes gold and diamonds::: in this hole a seed will grow to overthrow graves and mountains
Armpits. Everyone has them. They can be hairy, stinky, everything. Without arms, we would not have pits. Elbow pits are my favourite. Knee pits are just as good. You may be wondering why I call them that. Why not?
She pounced on top of me, smothering her pits in my face.
“Oh God. Not again Sashi!” I cried out loud. This just happens to be my hippy sister’s favourite way to wake me up.
Pits as in arm pits are hairy, musty and often slimy. There are also gravel pits that reek havoc. Dipping’ pit as in Jason pits….dip and pits and dippin dippin pits.
A bottomless hole. it can be mental or physical. it can be scary and often difficult to navigate through. in a less deep introspective way, it can be smelly, or often embaressing feature to some. a pit, is indescribable.
As she traveled through the field, what had seemed like polka dots covering the landscape, revealed themselves, to be pits, in various sizes. Some only a few inches deep, others she couldnt see the bottom of. Winding her way through them all with out losing sight of the ever fainter and ever farther ahead guide, Nikki sped along, hungry and tired but ready to get home.
When I think pits, I think down in the dump. Depression. Sadness. Him. I’m always down in the dumps. Which makes me even more sad, ya know. It’s hard for me to be happy now a days and it really bothers me. Him. Him. Him. Missing him makes me sad and I hate that. I hate being dependent on him to make me happy. I hate being so pathetic..
People say they’re down in the pits to mean they’re down on their luck or sad. Maybe even depressed or miserable. It’s an older saying and you really don’t hear it anymore. I haven’t thought about it in years. I don’t think I have since I was a child, and I’m surprised I remembered it.
Every time someone creepily honks or whistles at me from their car as i walk down the street, i flip them off. then they yell at me to shave my armpits. ive always wanted to rub my armpit in one of their faces. or on their car. which might burn, actually. so maybe not.
Pits smell. I’m thinking of armpits though, so I’m not sure what else to sat. Pits..hmm.. Coffee pits…Coffee shops called the Pit on 90210. I watch way too much television. I need to stop.
falling down to a bottom black hole to the bottom of a pit. falling forever. never dying and never aging. just falling to emptiness. living life as is. going down down down. no way to come back up. where are you going? what will you do?
We are in the pits of hell, but it’s quite comfy, quite cozy, so we’ll make this little ditch our home. We don’t dare peek over the edge to see what lies above us, above our burning heads. Much safer here, much safer.
it’s the pits having only one life to live. I have so many other lives to be responsible for that I have not lived my own life. I need more time. I need more of me. When does that fit in to my schedule. I have a whole other life I need to fit in here. It’s too crowded in here!
arm pits are stinky, usually smelly. I dont really like them. they’re the pits. punny, puns and punnnnerific. Pity me and my arm pits please. Groos, dont touch them or smell them, they might be sweaty. smelly. deodorant is worth it sometimes. or a good shower! if you shower often enough you dont really need deodorant.
It was the pits, being this disconcerted and uninspired. He stared out the window, watching every raindrop fall down the pane, watching one drop race the other. Nothing gave him any spark of ideas. No flower to examine, no women to long over, no song to sing to. It was in this moment that James Wetherington seriously considered smoking one last cigarette and killing himself.
Pits are like the middle part of the fruit. The part you don’t eat you know. The hard part in the middle of the peach. Like James and the Giant Peach. Good Book. Okay movie I guess. But pits are also like holes in the ground. How can one word mean two things? E
Pits is something that’s under your arms. Well those are called arm pits. I mean the word “Pits” has a lot of interpretations. One being like i said before, your arm pits. The shitty and smelly crap under your arms, exactly under your shoulders. It’s a shitty place cause it grows hair and you have to fucking shave it and it sucks. Another thing of pits is something you dig in and it’s like called a pit.
the pits of the peaches, in her cupped hands. he stared and watched, wondering if she would do as she had said. they felt sticky against her fingertips, warm, hideously soft in the wavering heat.
Pits. Peaches? Makes me think of Peach from Mario. Y’know, I really think that she needs to be more clear with what she and Mario are. I mean COME ON, the guy has been working for years to save her, and the most he’s gotten is some cake and a kiss on the cheek. He deserves to much more :(. Maybe Daisy? She fits him better.
deep dark pits surround my being, envelop my mind, devour my soul. my entirety of my self is in this pit, it caresses my decaying skin as it consumes me. this is my grave.
Pits are deep. Aren’t they? I mean, some of them are, and it really sucks when you’re running and you hit one. You fall, and everyone just kind of stares while you try to salvage your dignity. You brush off the grass stains, and look at the pit, and you REALLY wanna punch it but I mean… yeah… its a PIT. No face. No stomach. Can’t punch it.
I really don’t like it when sweaty guys like, lift up their arms and show us those hairy puppies.
What’s really terrible is when they’re all curly. Like, I can picture a REALLY pretty boy, with brown, curly locks, but then I realize that those brown curly locks are attatched the the underside of some dude’s arms! Anyway, they seem sooo greasy! Like, even if that person isn’t totally sweaty, you can see how shiny their pit hair is. What REALLY makes me sad is when I meet a REALLY hot guy, then he goes in for a hug, and BAM. I see his armpits. Its ALWAYS the armpits.
Peaches have them, and they are a lot like almonds. Except for one thing! They can break your teeth! Ouch. That’s the pits! Ouch!!! Oh yeah, I said that. Well Cherries have them as well. And olives. You really have to look out when eating these fruit.
Stuck in the pits. Again. I should’ve expected it to happen, being a gambler and all that. I really thought I had turned my life around…turns out that had not happened. I didn’t even last a week. Gambling is my life. I was born gambling, and I will die gambling (and that may depend on how much I bet and not give)
(PS: To avoid confusion, I’ve never gambled in my LIFE)
arm pit. sand pits. i cant think. this words does not bring me joy. heartfelt things. ugly. a pretty lavender color. what.; this is wierd. if i dont spell things write it is because im not thinking. what am i doing, not thinking? or am i thinking.
He had lost it. His mind had been devoured, deep into the pits of hell. Well not really hell, just the confines of his childhood home. They say that once you leave you can never really come back home, and now he understood exactly what that saying meant.
Dents in the ground. Dug out in their quest for wealth and with it, power. They don’t care for the landscape they are destroying, for the wounds they are inflicting upon the earth.
Things like apricot pits, sour things that make your eyes scrunch up in utter distaste. They taste like a bitter summer day, so hot it gives the air an edge; an edge you don’t like.
Arms. Smelly. Gross. Ew. Eh. Pit stains. Pat fell in the pit. Pat fell in the pit at the bottom of the well. Pete found pat in the pit of the well at the bottom of the hell. Pat was wet.
the pits of the soul hold the heaviest fits of regret and upturned unleash all that the mind had failed to forget.
Pits. The pits of a cherry always surprise me; every time. The pits are a tiny, hard, simple reminder that even the most beautiful and natural creations are not perfect. Cherry Pits.
Hmm what comes to mind about pits. Arm pits is a given. But what about cherry pits. The hard little surprise in the center of a beautiful red cherry to remind you that even something so small and beautiful has its imperfections. Cherry pits.
i may have fallen from your good graces but i know need i will return from this pit with new devices, dreams ,grander schemes gold and diamonds::: in this hole a seed will grow to overthrow graves and mountains
I already wrote a poem about “pits”
but if you should imply, I shall write..
Pits are… well, pits.
It’s a PITty that I have such a uninspiring word.
I have fallen into the pits of doom,
where nothing of wonder looms.
can’t you see me?
or am i too wound in my cocoon?
Armpits. Everyone has them. They can be hairy, stinky, everything. Without arms, we would not have pits. Elbow pits are my favourite. Knee pits are just as good. You may be wondering why I call them that. Why not?
She pounced on top of me, smothering her pits in my face.
“Oh God. Not again Sashi!” I cried out loud. This just happens to be my hippy sister’s favourite way to wake me up.
There are pits in fruits, but that isn’t what I thought of. I thought of armpits. Weird, huh? No. Not really, i guess. I’m a very random person.
Pits as in arm pits are hairy, musty and often slimy. There are also gravel pits that reek havoc. Dipping’ pit as in Jason pits….dip and pits and dippin dippin pits.
A bottomless hole. it can be mental or physical. it can be scary and often difficult to navigate through. in a less deep introspective way, it can be smelly, or often embaressing feature to some. a pit, is indescribable.
As she traveled through the field, what had seemed like polka dots covering the landscape, revealed themselves, to be pits, in various sizes. Some only a few inches deep, others she couldnt see the bottom of. Winding her way through them all with out losing sight of the ever fainter and ever farther ahead guide, Nikki sped along, hungry and tired but ready to get home.
When I think pits, I think down in the dump. Depression. Sadness. Him. I’m always down in the dumps. Which makes me even more sad, ya know. It’s hard for me to be happy now a days and it really bothers me. Him. Him. Him. Missing him makes me sad and I hate that. I hate being dependent on him to make me happy. I hate being so pathetic..
Underarms are gross. I guess you could say they’re…. *puts on sunglasses*… the pits.
YEEEEAAAAAHHHH!
People say they’re down in the pits to mean they’re down on their luck or sad. Maybe even depressed or miserable. It’s an older saying and you really don’t hear it anymore. I haven’t thought about it in years. I don’t think I have since I was a child, and I’m surprised I remembered it.
Every time someone creepily honks or whistles at me from their car as i walk down the street, i flip them off. then they yell at me to shave my armpits. ive always wanted to rub my armpit in one of their faces. or on their car. which might burn, actually. so maybe not.
Pits smell. I’m thinking of armpits though, so I’m not sure what else to sat. Pits..hmm.. Coffee pits…Coffee shops called the Pit on 90210. I watch way too much television. I need to stop.
falling down to a bottom black hole to the bottom of a pit. falling forever. never dying and never aging. just falling to emptiness. living life as is. going down down down. no way to come back up. where are you going? what will you do?
the farmers create pits to store rain water for using it in dry seasons. These pits help the farmers to irrigate the fields in dry seasons.
well there are different types of pits there are the ones under your arms and then there are big black pits that you can fall into.
“Astor stop laughing.”
“Th-th-the word – is PITS.”
“Astor you’re going to rupture something.”
“OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS SITE TOBIAS. WHAT. IS IT.”
“Astor it’s not actually that funny.”
“C’mere Tobias I have a ticklishness test I need to perform.”
“NO. LEAVE.”
We are in the pits of hell, but it’s quite comfy, quite cozy, so we’ll make this little ditch our home. We don’t dare peek over the edge to see what lies above us, above our burning heads. Much safer here, much safer.
it’s the pits having only one life to live. I have so many other lives to be responsible for that I have not lived my own life. I need more time. I need more of me. When does that fit in to my schedule. I have a whole other life I need to fit in here. It’s too crowded in here!
arm pits are stinky, usually smelly. I dont really like them. they’re the pits. punny, puns and punnnnerific. Pity me and my arm pits please. Groos, dont touch them or smell them, they might be sweaty. smelly. deodorant is worth it sometimes. or a good shower! if you shower often enough you dont really need deodorant.
It was the pits, being this disconcerted and uninspired. He stared out the window, watching every raindrop fall down the pane, watching one drop race the other. Nothing gave him any spark of ideas. No flower to examine, no women to long over, no song to sing to. It was in this moment that James Wetherington seriously considered smoking one last cigarette and killing himself.
Pits are like the middle part of the fruit. The part you don’t eat you know. The hard part in the middle of the peach. Like James and the Giant Peach. Good Book. Okay movie I guess. But pits are also like holes in the ground. How can one word mean two things? E
Pits is something that’s under your arms. Well those are called arm pits. I mean the word “Pits” has a lot of interpretations. One being like i said before, your arm pits. The shitty and smelly crap under your arms, exactly under your shoulders. It’s a shitty place cause it grows hair and you have to fucking shave it and it sucks. Another thing of pits is something you dig in and it’s like called a pit.
the pits of the peaches, in her cupped hands. he stared and watched, wondering if she would do as she had said. they felt sticky against her fingertips, warm, hideously soft in the wavering heat.
arm pits or olive pits? the question means EVERYTHING! people always have to be specific, sooooo why dont they say what pits these are? oh well!
Pits. Peaches? Makes me think of Peach from Mario. Y’know, I really think that she needs to be more clear with what she and Mario are. I mean COME ON, the guy has been working for years to save her, and the most he’s gotten is some cake and a kiss on the cheek. He deserves to much more :(. Maybe Daisy? She fits him better.
deep dark pits surround my being, envelop my mind, devour my soul. my entirety of my self is in this pit, it caresses my decaying skin as it consumes me. this is my grave.
Pits are deep. Aren’t they? I mean, some of them are, and it really sucks when you’re running and you hit one. You fall, and everyone just kind of stares while you try to salvage your dignity. You brush off the grass stains, and look at the pit, and you REALLY wanna punch it but I mean… yeah… its a PIT. No face. No stomach. Can’t punch it.
Eww… They’re pretty gross.
I really don’t like it when sweaty guys like, lift up their arms and show us those hairy puppies.
What’s really terrible is when they’re all curly. Like, I can picture a REALLY pretty boy, with brown, curly locks, but then I realize that those brown curly locks are attatched the the underside of some dude’s arms! Anyway, they seem sooo greasy! Like, even if that person isn’t totally sweaty, you can see how shiny their pit hair is. What REALLY makes me sad is when I meet a REALLY hot guy, then he goes in for a hug, and BAM. I see his armpits. Its ALWAYS the armpits.
Peaches have them, and they are a lot like almonds. Except for one thing! They can break your teeth! Ouch. That’s the pits! Ouch!!! Oh yeah, I said that. Well Cherries have them as well. And olives. You really have to look out when eating these fruit.
Stuck in the pits. Again. I should’ve expected it to happen, being a gambler and all that. I really thought I had turned my life around…turns out that had not happened. I didn’t even last a week. Gambling is my life. I was born gambling, and I will die gambling (and that may depend on how much I bet and not give)
(PS: To avoid confusion, I’ve never gambled in my LIFE)