The puncture wound was pretty deep, but she figured if she made it this far she could survive anything. her matted clothes and dirty hair were more unsettling to her than the blood. how did she get in this mess she wondered, going down wrong roads, with stupid people.
vivid thought about sucess and growth,
i said i would reach the peak
I didnt knew i had rubbed my self a lot
Left with just a weak body and some punctured thought.
The puncture wound was purple, oozing a clear yellow liquid and starting to puff up. She felt out-of-her-body and distant from reality, although the clacking cicadas were still echoing through the throb of the wound site.
puncture my heart and soul with your words, look into my eyes and see right through me
the windows of my heart the windows of my past
see through me, puncture me
i can’t picture me without you
всего один маленький прокол, ошибка, упущение в моем плане – через час к дому подъезжает машина, а из нее выходит ОН с победоносной улыбкой на лице. Все кончено.
острой иглой проколола себе палец. больно. идет кровь. маленькая грязно-алая капелька прочерчивает корявую дорожку по пальцу, а я не могу отвести от нее взгляда.
There is nothing about you left that I have not discovered and yet each moment I spend with you becomes less like a fairy tale and more like a sword fight. And every time I hear you say my name like that, it’s like you’ve punctured my soul and I can’t go on fighting you without a shield.
The moment it slid across my wrist and dug into my flesh, i didn’t want to do it anymore. the blood stung red and burning on my skin and i could feel my heart screaming to me “STOP I need that! What are you doing???”
Pop! I push the pencil through the crumpled piece of paper, making a small hole. Pop! Pop! Again and again, puncturing the thin piece of paper that reminded me so much of my own skin; easy to pierce through.
I got my ears pierced on Tuesday. I am really excited because this is the day the dragon ceremony begins. Everyone knows that the dragon ceremony is the most important time in a young apes life.
Pain. I’ve been punctured physically before, but the worst pain is being punctured from the inside; mentally. Like seeing him look at someone else the way he looked you. With what you thought was love in his eyes. what a puncture a heart could take.
yesterday my friend and i punctured our ribs while playing with an elf named “sir whicksalot”. He wasn’t a very friendly elf. He was rather mean, and unplesant.
A puncture wound.
The blade slowly slipped back out of his brother’s spine. “No!” Sam screamed, running towards him.
It couldn’t end.
Not this way.
Not without a fight.
This demon had just appeared and now Dean was dying, no, dead. Gone, again.
But with Cas’s wings singing the floor beside Dean there was no way he was ever going to come back, was there?
It wasn’t very big, at least not on the surface. But it was deep, and she knew that she’d have to soak her foot in a hot Epsom salt solution if she wanted to keep it form getting infected. Stepping on a rusty nail was dumb. Puncture wounds are the pits.
It is very difficult to use the word ‘puncture’ in a positive way:
“The tyre was punctured, the skin was punctured etc. every time you use it, it gives off a negative vibe. even forced into a positive context it seems, wrong, ugly, and sometimes out of place:
“she used the screwdriver to puncture the plastic, allowing her to breath”
“the boy ripped at the wrapping paper, using one finger to puncture it and see his present inside”
“the skin of the sweet sweet fruit was punctured, for the best tasting juice he had ever tasted”
It is like after using this verb, there are some other nasty verbs, accompanied by some negative adjectives, following, just waiting to get written by me, and i have to try my hardest to hold them back.
A man once punctured his hand with a tuning fork and while he was going to fix it he ended up meeting the lady of his dreams in the hospital waiting room. She asked what happened and he told her the story. They ended up going for coffee after they both got out. TUrned out she only had a day to live and died the following day happy.
The tire deflates rapidly when the hole explodes for no discernible reason. the rubber is torn out by the escaping air and the whole structure sinks slowly into the ground. An arrow can be used for this, or any other projectile that has piercing properties.
I always thought that puncturing a bicycle tire is a fun, cool habit. Why i did I think that, you ask? Because all the cool guys in my junior high school frequently did that, and I was also victimized but never took it seriously because I would get my bike perfected by a nearby repair shop for little or no cost. This was not a problem. The only trouble was that I had not enough guts to perpetrate this minor crime. Threat of getting beaten up was not the issue. I was more scared of getting detention. I guess I preferred boring school over fun. Maybe I didn’t have what it took to be cool back then.
Kind of like the time I was walking through the mountains. When I heard the fall of a tree trunk, the noise of the break punctured through the air. It caught me off guard. Just like you, babe. You have caught me off guard and I don’t know how I should feel about this.
the puncture on my hand didnt hurt at all it took forever to go in but i didnt feel it. Im dreaming thats why and i can do things likes but i don t want to get stuck on this rusty piece of shank.
The puncture in my tyre is getting worse and i haven’t the tools to fix it. I really need to invest in a new toolbox as i do not want my tyre going flat on me while i am driving, or worse, it bursting and causing a crash !
needle punctures a balloon in slow motion the nurse puts the needle into my vein or attempts to. she misses entirely and a red dot appears on my skin, ruining the image of porcelain. crimson against white. my blue veins
I don’t like when sharp things puncture my skin. It makes me really nervous. I feel like I’m out of control. I don’t like being out of control. When I feel at a loss for power, my vision goes black, my head spins, and I usually wake up with a bunch of surprised people in my face.
I pull at the rose as a thorn punctures my finger. I let the flower fall to the ground as it suddenly seems so evil to my small hands. I back away searching for arms to be cradled in but find none.
I cried out loud for her, I truly did. And it wasn’t once, or even twice. That whole year, I had moments where the thoughts would puncture my body, and the wounds would reopen. I would cry for however long it took, for however long I needed. And when I revisit those places and feel nothing, feel no reason to cry, I’m proud. I’m proud that I’m not who I was, that I’m no longer a broken girl deep in despair.
And then, it hits me.
Hits me hard.
Punctures my soul and my heart
Until it feels that nothing is left
except for the huge gaping whole
in the middle of my chest.
And it hits me.
Punctures my heart,
my soul, my mind.
The pain is unbearable.
I myself am unbearable.
I want to go away,
be free
in a place where the pain
can puncture me no more
and the puncture wound began to go numb, as did my heart. He hit me one last time, breaking everything inside.
The puncture wound was pretty deep, but she figured if she made it this far she could survive anything. her matted clothes and dirty hair were more unsettling to her than the blood. how did she get in this mess she wondered, going down wrong roads, with stupid people.
Puncture a heart with your actions. And you try to heal it with your words. Sorry, I’m human. I have my limits.
once upon a time I was wondering in the campus of my college and shit happened, cycle got punctured and its still spoiling out there in the shed.
i want my boyfriend back,and i want my life back and i want to be happy.
vivid thought about sucess and growth,
i said i would reach the peak
I didnt knew i had rubbed my self a lot
Left with just a weak body and some punctured thought.
The puncture wound was purple, oozing a clear yellow liquid and starting to puff up. She felt out-of-her-body and distant from reality, although the clacking cicadas were still echoing through the throb of the wound site.
прокол у сгиба локтя. одно нажатие. грязная белесая жидкость врывается в вену. судорога по телу. рывком снять ремень, стягивающий плечо. откинуться на стену, болезненно закатив красные глаза. чуть пошевелить белыми немеющими губами. чувство падения куда-то вниз. затягивает. завлекает. дурман. тьма. безнадежность. одиночество. боль.
puncture my heart and soul with your words, look into my eyes and see right through me
the windows of my heart the windows of my past
see through me, puncture me
i can’t picture me without you
всего один маленький прокол, ошибка, упущение в моем плане – через час к дому подъезжает машина, а из нее выходит ОН с победоносной улыбкой на лице. Все кончено.
острой иглой проколола себе палец. больно. идет кровь. маленькая грязно-алая капелька прочерчивает корявую дорожку по пальцу, а я не могу отвести от нее взгляда.
my heart was full of happiness but then it was punctured.i cant believe it!
There is nothing about you left that I have not discovered and yet each moment I spend with you becomes less like a fairy tale and more like a sword fight. And every time I hear you say my name like that, it’s like you’ve punctured my soul and I can’t go on fighting you without a shield.
Every time i glance at that certain spot on my bed, i remember that it is slighly punctured and no, that is not a bug trying to eat me.
The moment it slid across my wrist and dug into my flesh, i didn’t want to do it anymore. the blood stung red and burning on my skin and i could feel my heart screaming to me “STOP I need that! What are you doing???”
меня словно ударили. будто прокололи иглой воздушный шар где-то внутри меня.и он лопнул, оглушительно взорвавшись.
It’s like a hole in my heart. I’ve never thought that I, the strong-willed, feminist, will experience this heartbreak.
Pop! I push the pencil through the crumpled piece of paper, making a small hole. Pop! Pop! Again and again, puncturing the thin piece of paper that reminded me so much of my own skin; easy to pierce through.
I got my ears pierced on Tuesday. I am really excited because this is the day the dragon ceremony begins. Everyone knows that the dragon ceremony is the most important time in a young apes life.
i punctured my eyeball the other day while eating a candy bar. It was rather gory, but i will not bore you with the story.
Pain. I’ve been punctured physically before, but the worst pain is being punctured from the inside; mentally. Like seeing him look at someone else the way he looked you. With what you thought was love in his eyes. what a puncture a heart could take.
yesterday my friend and i punctured our ribs while playing with an elf named “sir whicksalot”. He wasn’t a very friendly elf. He was rather mean, and unplesant.
A puncture wound.
The blade slowly slipped back out of his brother’s spine. “No!” Sam screamed, running towards him.
It couldn’t end.
Not this way.
Not without a fight.
This demon had just appeared and now Dean was dying, no, dead. Gone, again.
But with Cas’s wings singing the floor beside Dean there was no way he was ever going to come back, was there?
There’s no bleeding. No spilling or seeping or running through the cracks. After the hole I made, I think my bag is just empty. Nothing to run out.
It wasn’t very big, at least not on the surface. But it was deep, and she knew that she’d have to soak her foot in a hot Epsom salt solution if she wanted to keep it form getting infected. Stepping on a rusty nail was dumb. Puncture wounds are the pits.
It is very difficult to use the word ‘puncture’ in a positive way:
“The tyre was punctured, the skin was punctured etc. every time you use it, it gives off a negative vibe. even forced into a positive context it seems, wrong, ugly, and sometimes out of place:
“she used the screwdriver to puncture the plastic, allowing her to breath”
“the boy ripped at the wrapping paper, using one finger to puncture it and see his present inside”
“the skin of the sweet sweet fruit was punctured, for the best tasting juice he had ever tasted”
It is like after using this verb, there are some other nasty verbs, accompanied by some negative adjectives, following, just waiting to get written by me, and i have to try my hardest to hold them back.
A man once punctured his hand with a tuning fork and while he was going to fix it he ended up meeting the lady of his dreams in the hospital waiting room. She asked what happened and he told her the story. They ended up going for coffee after they both got out. TUrned out she only had a day to live and died the following day happy.
The tire deflates rapidly when the hole explodes for no discernible reason. the rubber is torn out by the escaping air and the whole structure sinks slowly into the ground. An arrow can be used for this, or any other projectile that has piercing properties.
I always thought that puncturing a bicycle tire is a fun, cool habit. Why i did I think that, you ask? Because all the cool guys in my junior high school frequently did that, and I was also victimized but never took it seriously because I would get my bike perfected by a nearby repair shop for little or no cost. This was not a problem. The only trouble was that I had not enough guts to perpetrate this minor crime. Threat of getting beaten up was not the issue. I was more scared of getting detention. I guess I preferred boring school over fun. Maybe I didn’t have what it took to be cool back then.
Kind of like the time I was walking through the mountains. When I heard the fall of a tree trunk, the noise of the break punctured through the air. It caught me off guard. Just like you, babe. You have caught me off guard and I don’t know how I should feel about this.
the puncture on my hand didnt hurt at all it took forever to go in but i didnt feel it. Im dreaming thats why and i can do things likes but i don t want to get stuck on this rusty piece of shank.
To use a object or yourself you create a tear, hole or rip in another object.
The puncture in my tyre is getting worse and i haven’t the tools to fix it. I really need to invest in a new toolbox as i do not want my tyre going flat on me while i am driving, or worse, it bursting and causing a crash !
needle punctures a balloon in slow motion the nurse puts the needle into my vein or attempts to. she misses entirely and a red dot appears on my skin, ruining the image of porcelain. crimson against white. my blue veins
I don’t like when sharp things puncture my skin. It makes me really nervous. I feel like I’m out of control. I don’t like being out of control. When I feel at a loss for power, my vision goes black, my head spins, and I usually wake up with a bunch of surprised people in my face.
I don’t know what to say. Why are you so punctural? xD
I pull at the rose as a thorn punctures my finger. I let the flower fall to the ground as it suddenly seems so evil to my small hands. I back away searching for arms to be cradled in but find none.
I cried out loud for her, I truly did. And it wasn’t once, or even twice. That whole year, I had moments where the thoughts would puncture my body, and the wounds would reopen. I would cry for however long it took, for however long I needed. And when I revisit those places and feel nothing, feel no reason to cry, I’m proud. I’m proud that I’m not who I was, that I’m no longer a broken girl deep in despair.
And then, it hits me.
Hits me hard.
Punctures my soul and my heart
Until it feels that nothing is left
except for the huge gaping whole
in the middle of my chest.
And it hits me.
Punctures my heart,
my soul, my mind.
The pain is unbearable.
I myself am unbearable.
I want to go away,
be free
in a place where the pain
can puncture me no more