there are pits in the peaches that hang on the trees in the gardens. the flesh is sweet and juicy–always. the nectar runs down fingers and hands, coating everything and making it sticky.
There are pits in a lot of things including people. we have arm pits and knee pits. why dont we have to put deo in ar knee pits? one of lifes many questions .
i wrote on this already. did you accept my activation key ? life is the pits at times cause my wife fills her time easily and i have to struggle to find rewarding activities.
One day a girl was out in an orchard. She found a ripe orange-red peach! She dropped it in her basket and ran away. “Mama! Mama!” She cried once she had arrived. Her mum came to the kitchen with the girl’s little brother. “Look at the peach I have found!” Her mum took the peach and peeled it. She took out the pit…
I’m not writing about pits. “Pits” is a gross word. I know it can refer to ditches and holes, but what do you expect me to write about the word “pits?” Because no matter what, my mind will fall back on “armpits.” That is a gross word and I refuse to conform to writing about it!
i just ate three peaches and they all had different colouring peach pits. one was red, the other was white, and the last was green. i could not eat these peach pits for fear of choking and different colours. colours scare me. but othere than that i quite enjoys peachs and their pits. i do not like arm pits though.
The pits, that rock bottomy place. That’s where I am right now, or at least that’s what it feels like. It’s summer, I’m supposed to be spitting out cherry pits and looking at gross sweaty armpits, not feeling like this, not feeling like I am the pits.
This is just the pits. I worked so hard to get enough money to finally engage to her and she decides, that morning, to dump me. It’s horrible. I feel like throwing myself off a cliff. Walking out into traffic.
That’s what I called my babies changing station. Everything we needed was there to get (him and her) cleaned up and ready. At the pits. The word just made me smile.
pits can be in the center of peaches. nobody eats them because they are hard. also they can be under your arms in which you much shave if you are a women or let grow long if you are a man. also wear doederant on your pits because you will smell if you dont. i dont like pits
The pits of sulfur left a foul stench that spread for miles. The nearby town that mined the sulfur was yellow and dirty and smelled. Everything including the people smelled like sulfur and ash.
Pits, arm pits and sand pits. The sand pits are my favourite pits. When you roll around in them at the tender age of 6 and create storming castles that even you are scared. That’s when you know you miss your childhood.
The puddles have been filled lately. Rain has been pouring for quite some time now. And I’ve realize that, yes, life’s better when it’s chipped, when holes, hinges and edges create shapes and lines where people meet the unexpected twists and turns that presumably completes one’s life. The pits are the adventures that we meet.
He looked over at me, amused smile on his face. “Did I miss the trip back to the 1950s?”
I glared at him. “Shut up. You’re such an ass.”
“But I’m your ass.” Now it was a smirk. I could kill him. Or kiss him. Damn him. I turn away. It only takes a second to feel his arms around me and his kiss against the side of my neck. He murmurs an apology and I sigh.
I reflected back; deep into the pits of memory that hold me close to their chest until I couldn’t breath. I could feel nothing. All the images I saw were just frames of a stalling video player, or empty tapes.
The pits were the best part of the fruit. She gathered all the ones that had been tossed into the trash. She saw art, a masterpiece came to her mind. A picture with the pits and a background full of grass. The artist in here came alive. She grabbed her paint, glue and art supplies and went to work.
“Welcome to the pits,” said the man, spreading his arm out before him.
The air was thick and damp, rent with the screams and pleas of tortured souls. The ground was moist and tinged with red. Hardly any light filtered in from the dark canopy above. Terror flooded through me, and I started to shake, eyes wide, mouth open as I started to hyperventilate.
yikes im sooo tired I feel as though I am falling into the….
it’s so dark it looks as though I’m stand in a …
I feel so lost in the god damn…
If only I could escape from this..
Damn you…
PIT
‘Life is the pits’, they say. It perhaps could be too, if it’s the smelly kind. Everyone may walk away from you, and that could really stink.
The word pits, opens up a world of wonder..
The pits of despair were a rather sullen place, however, their walls were far from sheer and with enough effort they could be scaled that one might find their way up, out, and onward again.
I have massive pits because that is where all of my sweat comes from. It can also be used for a large hole very deep (not wrong or anything) Like in 300. You know when he is like ‘THIS IS SPARTA’.
The pits were as deep as black holes. A raging fire runs through, away it dance and fickle. Somehow, it still didn’t die down. I guess the dark have it safely cradle in its arms.
pits are dangerous because people can fall in them sometimes more than once, im remided of pit bull the singer now which inturn reminds me of a pitbull, the anmal, i dont really know how a pit looks..
I think about arm pits and Brad Pitts and I wonder what the world has come to. I’m half-French so I guess I could leave my arm pits beautifully forest-like and no one would give half a damn. But maybe Brad Pitt would give a damn. Do you think Brad Pitt wishes he could change his name? I might, if I were him. Don’t want to be named after a French woman’s hairy underarms, do you?
armpits. the pits of despair. the pits of hard work and determination.
the pits of desire.
be proud of that stench, and sometimes, remember to take a shower.
is this a hole? can be arm pits too? hahah~ pits, a hole that you should be careful. once you get down there’s a way to get up back. never give up no matter what happen. its just obstacles that we need to go through. should show how strong you are. babai! :D
My first thought was armpits, which just reminds me of those gross puberty movies they always bring out, pretending to be rad cool when really they are the ultimate in lameness. They’re always so awkwardly righteous.
i hate cherry pits. they taste disgusting and they cheat at dodgeball. i found out about both of these things at the same time because well, you see, when you eat a cherry pit it transmits its thoughts into your mind for about 5 seconds. in those 5 seconds i saw a terrible bout of dodgeball cheating. it was shameful.
It was a hot sunny day when Marlene was out gardening in her backyard. Her tulips and lilacs had just started to spring up and she was happily tending to them in the blazing August heat. It was then that she noticed the holes in her topsoil as she leaned over to water her plants.
pits are the fiery depths of anger, of hell, where each one of us falls, day in, day out. these are the depraved, silent monsters that haunt us when our responses become beyond our control because they are dictated by the circumstance, not us. these pits have simple manhole covers: conscience and awareness. Get these right, and your life is elevated beyond those insane pits
The abyss that is the bottom of a coal mine is like the pit of hell; fumes blow up from the earth and tarnish the face with dirt and mud. It fills the lungs with soot.
Oh lord. No one wants to think about the pits. We all try not to be in the pits. We try not to get the pits in our mouths. We try to hide our pits and to made them as inconspicuous as possible. We are all trying not to believe that we are pit-iful….it’s pithetic.
there are pits in the peaches that hang on the trees in the gardens. the flesh is sweet and juicy–always. the nectar runs down fingers and hands, coating everything and making it sticky.
There are pits in a lot of things including people. we have arm pits and knee pits. why dont we have to put deo in ar knee pits? one of lifes many questions .
_Roger Kopp
pits i really don’t wanna right about this word it depicts evil like holes or ditches which are quite negative in themselves
i wrote on this already. did you accept my activation key ? life is the pits at times cause my wife fills her time easily and i have to struggle to find rewarding activities.
Pits are now a days a lot common scene especially on indian roads. lot of inconvienence is created by these pits
One day a girl was out in an orchard. She found a ripe orange-red peach! She dropped it in her basket and ran away. “Mama! Mama!” She cried once she had arrived. Her mum came to the kitchen with the girl’s little brother. “Look at the peach I have found!” Her mum took the peach and peeled it. She took out the pit…
TIME IS UP
I’m not writing about pits. “Pits” is a gross word. I know it can refer to ditches and holes, but what do you expect me to write about the word “pits?” Because no matter what, my mind will fall back on “armpits.” That is a gross word and I refuse to conform to writing about it!
hi
i just ate three peaches and they all had different colouring peach pits. one was red, the other was white, and the last was green. i could not eat these peach pits for fear of choking and different colours. colours scare me. but othere than that i quite enjoys peachs and their pits. i do not like arm pits though.
The pits, that rock bottomy place. That’s where I am right now, or at least that’s what it feels like. It’s summer, I’m supposed to be spitting out cherry pits and looking at gross sweaty armpits, not feeling like this, not feeling like I am the pits.
Right?
This is just the pits. I worked so hard to get enough money to finally engage to her and she decides, that morning, to dump me. It’s horrible. I feel like throwing myself off a cliff. Walking out into traffic.
That’s what I called my babies changing station. Everything we needed was there to get (him and her) cleaned up and ready. At the pits. The word just made me smile.
pits can be in the center of peaches. nobody eats them because they are hard. also they can be under your arms in which you much shave if you are a women or let grow long if you are a man. also wear doederant on your pits because you will smell if you dont. i dont like pits
The pits of sulfur left a foul stench that spread for miles. The nearby town that mined the sulfur was yellow and dirty and smelled. Everything including the people smelled like sulfur and ash.
Pits, arm pits and sand pits. The sand pits are my favourite pits. When you roll around in them at the tender age of 6 and create storming castles that even you are scared. That’s when you know you miss your childhood.
The puddles have been filled lately. Rain has been pouring for quite some time now. And I’ve realize that, yes, life’s better when it’s chipped, when holes, hinges and edges create shapes and lines where people meet the unexpected twists and turns that presumably completes one’s life. The pits are the adventures that we meet.
i was in the pits today.
have always been .
ever since i can remember.
“That’s the pits!”
He looked over at me, amused smile on his face. “Did I miss the trip back to the 1950s?”
I glared at him. “Shut up. You’re such an ass.”
“But I’m your ass.” Now it was a smirk. I could kill him. Or kiss him. Damn him. I turn away. It only takes a second to feel his arms around me and his kiss against the side of my neck. He murmurs an apology and I sigh.
“Yes you are.”
I reflected back; deep into the pits of memory that hold me close to their chest until I couldn’t breath. I could feel nothing. All the images I saw were just frames of a stalling video player, or empty tapes.
The pits were the best part of the fruit. She gathered all the ones that had been tossed into the trash. She saw art, a masterpiece came to her mind. A picture with the pits and a background full of grass. The artist in here came alive. She grabbed her paint, glue and art supplies and went to work.
green love eye sea ship right some where in turkey marriage son boy boat happiness sun rise
being away from you is exquisite
agony
being with you is oppressive
delight
I think anything else would be
like the center of a peach
the pits
“Welcome to the pits,” said the man, spreading his arm out before him.
The air was thick and damp, rent with the screams and pleas of tortured souls. The ground was moist and tinged with red. Hardly any light filtered in from the dark canopy above. Terror flooded through me, and I started to shake, eyes wide, mouth open as I started to hyperventilate.
yikes im sooo tired I feel as though I am falling into the….
it’s so dark it looks as though I’m stand in a …
I feel so lost in the god damn…
If only I could escape from this..
Damn you…
PIT
I was at my wits end. It was the season that I found myself in the pits. It was that bad. But God deliver me from the arms of despair.
‘Life is the pits’, they say. It perhaps could be too, if it’s the smelly kind. Everyone may walk away from you, and that could really stink.
The word pits, opens up a world of wonder..
The pits of despair were a rather sullen place, however, their walls were far from sheer and with enough effort they could be scaled that one might find their way up, out, and onward again.
I have massive pits because that is where all of my sweat comes from. It can also be used for a large hole very deep (not wrong or anything) Like in 300. You know when he is like ‘THIS IS SPARTA’.
The pits were as deep as black holes. A raging fire runs through, away it dance and fickle. Somehow, it still didn’t die down. I guess the dark have it safely cradle in its arms.
pits are dangerous because people can fall in them sometimes more than once, im remided of pit bull the singer now which inturn reminds me of a pitbull, the anmal, i dont really know how a pit looks..
I think about arm pits and Brad Pitts and I wonder what the world has come to. I’m half-French so I guess I could leave my arm pits beautifully forest-like and no one would give half a damn. But maybe Brad Pitt would give a damn. Do you think Brad Pitt wishes he could change his name? I might, if I were him. Don’t want to be named after a French woman’s hairy underarms, do you?
armpits. the pits of despair. the pits of hard work and determination.
the pits of desire.
be proud of that stench, and sometimes, remember to take a shower.
is this a hole? can be arm pits too? hahah~ pits, a hole that you should be careful. once you get down there’s a way to get up back. never give up no matter what happen. its just obstacles that we need to go through. should show how strong you are. babai! :D
My first thought was armpits, which just reminds me of those gross puberty movies they always bring out, pretending to be rad cool when really they are the ultimate in lameness. They’re always so awkwardly righteous.
i hate cherry pits. they taste disgusting and they cheat at dodgeball. i found out about both of these things at the same time because well, you see, when you eat a cherry pit it transmits its thoughts into your mind for about 5 seconds. in those 5 seconds i saw a terrible bout of dodgeball cheating. it was shameful.
It was a hot sunny day when Marlene was out gardening in her backyard. Her tulips and lilacs had just started to spring up and she was happily tending to them in the blazing August heat. It was then that she noticed the holes in her topsoil as she leaned over to water her plants.
pits are the fiery depths of anger, of hell, where each one of us falls, day in, day out. these are the depraved, silent monsters that haunt us when our responses become beyond our control because they are dictated by the circumstance, not us. these pits have simple manhole covers: conscience and awareness. Get these right, and your life is elevated beyond those insane pits
The abyss that is the bottom of a coal mine is like the pit of hell; fumes blow up from the earth and tarnish the face with dirt and mud. It fills the lungs with soot.
Oh lord. No one wants to think about the pits. We all try not to be in the pits. We try not to get the pits in our mouths. We try to hide our pits and to made them as inconspicuous as possible. We are all trying not to believe that we are pit-iful….it’s pithetic.
Sometimes life is really the pits, but others it’s actually fine. It’s the bad times that help define the good times.