puncture the heart and watch as the red blood flows through the cracks and crevices of the earth. for all those who have lost someone have seen this so. it is the cause of the effect that always will and always has accompanied loss of those that are loved. but in the end we learn to conquer the loss or lose ourselves in the quest for retrieval.
I don’t know what I am writing. Honestly, this feels like writers craft. When my class did stream of conscience. It was fun, complicated at times, but fun none the less. So, puncture, eh? What can I say about this?
when you put pressure on something or someone like you and me. you can do this by poking someone with a stick or some other idea that came to your mind. sometimes it can really hurt when you do get punctured, but other times it is just plain annoying. For another example you can make jello and put something in it, the pressure you put on it made that “thing” you used go inside of it.
when I think about puncture I think about needles. why? because I hate them. they are vile gross nasty things that puncture the surface of my skin to try to help me with stuff. but honestly, do they REALLY?
A heart is a fragile thing.
Wounded by the slightest of ills,
Punctured by the slick blade of a lie.
Mere flesh to the dangers of emotion.
We live through the adversity of death.
ow, it hurts so bad i can’t feel anymore, i’m slipping into unconciousness! Goodbye world. For i shall miss you, even though i was only a speck in your existence.
My heart was punctured by the loveless sight you persuaded my eyes to see through the lost and complex cries of your smile. But the words will never be sewn and the scars will never heal because the water from my soul isn’t nourishment, only punishment. For I am parched and dehydrated to the point of no return.
Last week I had a puncture on my bike. I was riding along Storey Road when I ran over some rubbish that had been dumped on the road. Next thing I knew I had a puncture and no repair kit!
Puncture. Reminds me of some Chinese thing but that’s a different one, if you know what I mean. isn’t this word supposed to hurt? like a stinging feeling of some sort?
You punctured a hole into my heart. You lead me, played me like a drum. What do I have to show for it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I want to hate you. With everything in me, but I can’t. I never will be able to. I just want to rip your emotions into shreds.
The needle punctured my skin. It didn’t hurt. I don’t know what pain feels like anymore. I still clenched my fist and teeth. Habit. You learn to act on the role that is expected of you. If only I could feel it for myself.
my heart is beating fast. As i run a long this beach we call life. The air punctures my lungs with happynees and sorrow all at the same time. What could this mean? We may never know, we may never know…
There was a hiss, a gasp and then a string of words in what could have been L’avarian.
Quite frankly, Shu didn’t know what it was.
She did know exactly what had happened though, because their guide suddenly yelped and backpedaled quite rapidly up the trail way.
“back!” He hissed, waving them away. “Get back, quick!”
“What’s the matter?” Shu stood on tip-toe trying to see over his massive shoulders. “What happened to Grenalie?”
The guide pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes half-shut as if trying to decide exactly what he was going to say about what. “Let’s just say that she thought egging on her brother’s snake fangs was a good thing.”
Shu blinked. “Snake fangs?”
The guide nodded, bleakly.
“Aren’t those like, a type of piercing or something?”
The guide rolled his eyes. “You’re talking about the girl, who’s the daughter of some moonwolf and a mountain ranger and a boy, who thinks his mother is the Loch Ness monster. It’s not all you’re thinking it is.”
Shu digested that mouthful of information and inevitably, winced.
It didn’t break, my heart. Everything just sort of drained from it, not grandly, not loudly, like a terrific crack, but in the pathetic manner of the air being let out of a balloon. It didn’t break, so much as it was punctured. And for some reason, that was worse.
He would always bear the scar where the stake had almost punctured his heart. He didn’t scar normally (unless he saw fit to keep one, that was, and even then the scar wasn’t real, but one of his many illusions), but of course there were exceptions to every rule.
Blinking lights, sirens… And a searing pain in the side. He had a way of finding danger. Danger was like his middle name. And last. And first. A punctured lung is nothing compared to what happened a month ago.
Did you know that you would break my heart? Did you know that your words were like your perfectly manicured fingernails, and would dig down into my chest to puncture the delicate membrane of my heart? Of course you didn’t. A needle doesn’t know its sharpness, just as you don’t know the piercing ferocity of your words.
The balloon let out a soft, squeaking whimper — looking up at the scrawny, scraggly boy with sad, rubbery eyes. The balloon shed a little tear. And then — in a moment, was gone. Only tattered red fragments remained.
His suit had a hole, and he remembered the motto they told him for when a suit had a puncture:
“When there’s a hole, find yourself a bowl… or anything to clog up the damn death toll!”
Ramon would not forget that space cadet motto. He also would not forget the ship he served on, or the crew he was with, or the beautiful wife he left back at home. What he wished he could forget was their excavation, all the rich minerals they found on mars, and the bastard Rezno, who was cutting at his breathing tube for his crate of valuables.
“Make a huge puncture wound into his heart!” The villain screamed to the henchman. The henchman’s hands shook as he pointed the knife towards the hero. The hero looked non-nonchalant as he stared down his ‘doom’ – or as he liked to call it, his daily job.
Well I have no clue what to write so…..lets go!
The most evil villain ever reigns now. He goes around sticking needles in kids balloons. Isn’t he terrible? Yeah I know I type slow, its telling me to finish my last sentence right now….:(
I sat down at the bench. I was silently minding my own business thinking about how I would later perfect my design for paper airplanes that could be launched into space. Suddenly, I felt as if someone were watching me. I knew someone was there. A noise. Puncture.
The way you said those words punctured my hopes. On their own, they would have seemed so innocent, so averagely normal. But when you hang them up in the air and let them drop to the ground, it sounds like a thousand broken, brittle icicles.
Injury. Pain. The result of a bite wound that is so sharp, so rapid, that all it leaves is a neat little hole on the surface. But what’s unseen is the vast amount of damage that happens under the surface. How things separate and divide, skin torn from the body although it’s not actually visible. Until you start poking.
To have your soul punctured by the one you loved and trusted is unbearable and unforgivable, so surely you must understand the reason I continuously stabbed him in the chest trying to imitate the gaping hole he left in my heart…surely you understand…surely
My brother was biteen by his cAT REALLY BAD LAST MONTHIt has only gotten worse after 2 surgeriesit s healibng and he thinks that thwe cat will be hios friend if he wrestltes it again and shows the cat hes nice!!!Just how big and puffy iot gaot!@ he even needs iv antibiotics daily for a month! it is all cus of a puncture wound IN HIS TENDON form tha cat
puncture the heart and watch as the red blood flows through the cracks and crevices of the earth. for all those who have lost someone have seen this so. it is the cause of the effect that always will and always has accompanied loss of those that are loved. but in the end we learn to conquer the loss or lose ourselves in the quest for retrieval.
I don’t know what I am writing. Honestly, this feels like writers craft. When my class did stream of conscience. It was fun, complicated at times, but fun none the less. So, puncture, eh? What can I say about this?
sharp and pointing
pinching my skin
bursting through
puncturing my flesh
a piercing
when you put pressure on something or someone like you and me. you can do this by poking someone with a stick or some other idea that came to your mind. sometimes it can really hurt when you do get punctured, but other times it is just plain annoying. For another example you can make jello and put something in it, the pressure you put on it made that “thing” you used go inside of it.
when I think about puncture I think about needles. why? because I hate them. they are vile gross nasty things that puncture the surface of my skin to try to help me with stuff. but honestly, do they REALLY?
A heart is a fragile thing.
Wounded by the slightest of ills,
Punctured by the slick blade of a lie.
Mere flesh to the dangers of emotion.
We live through the adversity of death.
The man cried as the sword punctured his fragile heart. His girlfriend smiled. She thrust the blade deeper. Blood filled their apartment, leaving
ow, it hurts so bad i can’t feel anymore, i’m slipping into unconciousness! Goodbye world. For i shall miss you, even though i was only a speck in your existence.
Punctured convictions trickle from your mouth,
underneath your salted taste buds and poorly
nurtured teeth, in a lovely colloquial croon.
punture a violation of space entirley inside now and unretractable
My heart was punctured by the loveless sight you persuaded my eyes to see through the lost and complex cries of your smile. But the words will never be sewn and the scars will never heal because the water from my soul isn’t nourishment, only punishment. For I am parched and dehydrated to the point of no return.
Last week I had a puncture on my bike. I was riding along Storey Road when I ran over some rubbish that had been dumped on the road. Next thing I knew I had a puncture and no repair kit!
Puncture. Reminds me of some Chinese thing but that’s a different one, if you know what I mean. isn’t this word supposed to hurt? like a stinging feeling of some sort?
You punctured a hole into my heart. You lead me, played me like a drum. What do I have to show for it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I want to hate you. With everything in me, but I can’t. I never will be able to. I just want to rip your emotions into shreds.
The needle punctured my skin. It didn’t hurt. I don’t know what pain feels like anymore. I still clenched my fist and teeth. Habit. You learn to act on the role that is expected of you. If only I could feel it for myself.
my tone of voice seemed to puncture the air with sadness and anger.
punctured egos don’t last long
they fade away like the mist
of ignorance
punctured wounds hurt but they heal
like broken hearts
over time
punctured love is an unbearable pain
till we find
love again
wound, splicing needle with skin, brings me back again…
my heart is beating fast. As i run a long this beach we call life. The air punctures my lungs with happynees and sorrow all at the same time. What could this mean? We may never know, we may never know…
puncture. cupid’s arrow punctured the girl’s heart. the boy punctured the girl’s dreams. so the girl punctured her own throat… puncture.
There was a hiss, a gasp and then a string of words in what could have been L’avarian.
Quite frankly, Shu didn’t know what it was.
She did know exactly what had happened though, because their guide suddenly yelped and backpedaled quite rapidly up the trail way.
“back!” He hissed, waving them away. “Get back, quick!”
“What’s the matter?” Shu stood on tip-toe trying to see over his massive shoulders. “What happened to Grenalie?”
The guide pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes half-shut as if trying to decide exactly what he was going to say about what. “Let’s just say that she thought egging on her brother’s snake fangs was a good thing.”
Shu blinked. “Snake fangs?”
The guide nodded, bleakly.
“Aren’t those like, a type of piercing or something?”
The guide rolled his eyes. “You’re talking about the girl, who’s the daughter of some moonwolf and a mountain ranger and a boy, who thinks his mother is the Loch Ness monster. It’s not all you’re thinking it is.”
Shu digested that mouthful of information and inevitably, winced.
“What?”
“Nothing. That’s just gotta hurt.”
It didn’t break, my heart. Everything just sort of drained from it, not grandly, not loudly, like a terrific crack, but in the pathetic manner of the air being let out of a balloon. It didn’t break, so much as it was punctured. And for some reason, that was worse.
He would always bear the scar where the stake had almost punctured his heart. He didn’t scar normally (unless he saw fit to keep one, that was, and even then the scar wasn’t real, but one of his many illusions), but of course there were exceptions to every rule.
oneway ticket punctured; the voyage from the alone to the alone.
Blinking lights, sirens… And a searing pain in the side. He had a way of finding danger. Danger was like his middle name. And last. And first. A punctured lung is nothing compared to what happened a month ago.
Did you know that you would break my heart? Did you know that your words were like your perfectly manicured fingernails, and would dig down into my chest to puncture the delicate membrane of my heart? Of course you didn’t. A needle doesn’t know its sharpness, just as you don’t know the piercing ferocity of your words.
I didn’t want to puncture his big ego and burst his balloon of delusion but hey…that’s what I’m
here for.
The balloon let out a soft, squeaking whimper — looking up at the scrawny, scraggly boy with sad, rubbery eyes. The balloon shed a little tear. And then — in a moment, was gone. Only tattered red fragments remained.
I freaking hate punctures. It’s like a satanic symbol. It causes every single thing to explode. It’s like the angel of dead or something.
His suit had a hole, and he remembered the motto they told him for when a suit had a puncture:
“When there’s a hole, find yourself a bowl… or anything to clog up the damn death toll!”
Ramon would not forget that space cadet motto. He also would not forget the ship he served on, or the crew he was with, or the beautiful wife he left back at home. What he wished he could forget was their excavation, all the rich minerals they found on mars, and the bastard Rezno, who was cutting at his breathing tube for his crate of valuables.
“Make a huge puncture wound into his heart!” The villain screamed to the henchman. The henchman’s hands shook as he pointed the knife towards the hero. The hero looked non-nonchalant as he stared down his ‘doom’ – or as he liked to call it, his daily job.
Well I have no clue what to write so…..lets go!
The most evil villain ever reigns now. He goes around sticking needles in kids balloons. Isn’t he terrible? Yeah I know I type slow, its telling me to finish my last sentence right now….:(
my heart. don’t think twice, i can take it. puncture my heart with your eyes, your words, your hands. take away these months, these years.
I sat down at the bench. I was silently minding my own business thinking about how I would later perfect my design for paper airplanes that could be launched into space. Suddenly, I felt as if someone were watching me. I knew someone was there. A noise. Puncture.
The gunshot punctured the sileence. The peace was shattered the second the sound rang into the the community. Chaos followed.
The way you said those words punctured my hopes. On their own, they would have seemed so innocent, so averagely normal. But when you hang them up in the air and let them drop to the ground, it sounds like a thousand broken, brittle icicles.
Injury. Pain. The result of a bite wound that is so sharp, so rapid, that all it leaves is a neat little hole on the surface. But what’s unseen is the vast amount of damage that happens under the surface. How things separate and divide, skin torn from the body although it’s not actually visible. Until you start poking.
To have your soul punctured by the one you loved and trusted is unbearable and unforgivable, so surely you must understand the reason I continuously stabbed him in the chest trying to imitate the gaping hole he left in my heart…surely you understand…surely
My brother was biteen by his cAT REALLY BAD LAST MONTHIt has only gotten worse after 2 surgeriesit s healibng and he thinks that thwe cat will be hios friend if he wrestltes it again and shows the cat hes nice!!!Just how big and puffy iot gaot!@ he even needs iv antibiotics daily for a month! it is all cus of a puncture wound IN HIS TENDON form tha cat
puncture as culture. in a world we create, our own. makes no sence, until it does and the again. IT DOESNT. who cares? what matters? why questions?