THE RAGGED MAN FOAMED AT HIS EYES AS HE LUSTED AFTER POISON THAT WAS HIS ONLY SOLACE ON COLD CURBSIDES.. his tattered clothes catered to his horrendous appearance
this one time i made ragged cuts in my skin and it was beautiful. i’m trying to remember it as hideous and painful and really really terrible but it wasn’t. the red was so red and the lines were so clean and nothing really mattered. but it was awful.
there is a shirt laying on my floor with holes everywhere.
i don’t wear it often, but there are holes.
maybe they’re the holes of my life.
the holes of my past.
the holes of my future.
My heart? My soul? My head is spinning ALL THE TIME lately. Our world is getting raggedy. What is it that holds everything together anyways?? It doesn’t feel like love.
She had a pretty, pink doll with ragged clothes on. Nary a shoe nor a sock in place. But blue eyes like the ocean and a small snub nose like those of typecast Western models. She took Lila everywhere with her. To school and swim class. To her neighbour’s and to Tim’s – her favourite soda joint around the corner from her house.
rough, run ragged. When I think about it, my life seems pretty ragged most of the time. I’m always pushing, and trying to get things done, but it never feels like anything is done with quality and on time. It just makes me tired.
Broken and tired. A curtain in several pieces, the work of several cats. Or one cat, with enough claw skills to make you think there were more involved.
Too many times, the curtain gets caught in heat coming up from the vent, but doesn’t have enough mass to move.
she ragged and ragged on him until his complete spirit broke. He is broken. He is untamed. He is a shadow of his former self. She has conquered his being. She is a succubus of the soul. She is too much for him to handle, and he is a broken man once again. She knows not the torture .
Clutching the tattered doll, Emmeline sat huddled in the corner. The shouts were moving nearer and nearer; occasional sounds of dishes thrown on the floor. Burying her face in the ragged doll’s chest, Emmeline hid inside herself.
I feel like you and I were just…so trashy. Like we didn’t care.
Were we so in love that we didn’t care that our lives were robbed? that we were ragged? Poor? Was love enough then?
Obviously not, you are just gone. I don’t know who I am without you sometimes, but I know that I am far ahead of you.
Walking through the dark engine room, someone left an inspection port open, a little metal plate in the floor like a 4 inch man hole or a mouse hole perhaps. Needless to say the 4 prongs of steel sticking through the hold run up to my knee when I stepped into the hole leaving three ragged tears in the flesh of my leg.
The mask I put on daily has become ragged and threadbare. Holes are appearing, and I’m afraid someone will see inside. I like my mask a lot, you see, and I’d just die if someone to were to see behind it, even a little peak. Suppose the holes get wide enough that I just come spilling out? I’m scared.
The hunter’s green clothing was in tatters by the time he walked through the door of his house. Collapsing on the floor, he held up the grisly trophy of the evil wolf’s paw for all to see. His wife rushed over to him, trying to tend to his wounds, but he shrugged off the help and stood up by himself, releasing a manly roar from his lungs that shook the house to its very foundation.
ragged is ugly and bummy. not being new or shiny or pretty. ragged reminds me of rags that a peasant may wear or a bum. it reminds me of tattered old…. basically BAD.
Ragged are the torn ends of my sleeves. They’re torn from the constant ripping and tearing that my fingers do. Nervousness, rip and tear. Fear, rip them ragged. I can’t stop, its the only thing that soothes my nerves and my soul. I rip them until they become a mangled mess, never to become whole again. Then I start again, rip and tear, gnaw and slice.
the white picket fence across the lawn had ragged un even tips , no matter how har she tried to hop over she just couldnt get past the ragged tips, they were like evil forces workign against her entry to the mansion where he was.
orphans like in charles dickens novels, hipsters like the ones at bard before i graduated. like leah hennessey. she was nuts as fuck but she’s one of the original bard kids, they’re ruining bard now and i hate it. everyone is a douche, trying too hard to go back to the originals
the ragged old doll was always sitting at the top of the bed. It was like it had its own place, ruling over all the other toys in the room. Although it was not the most appealing of the toys, it still was treated with as much respect as one could give a toy.
worn out. im tired
ragged is my state of mind right now
im sick and tired of all of this
stress and what not
ragged like a used doll
i just need to sit and block out the world
its so hard to do so
but i have to
for my own sake and those around me
when you’re feeling worn down and overworked and there’s nothing left of you to take, you’re ragged. like butter spread over too much bread. you’re tired. you can’t take it anymore. you’re probably ready to give up. all you need is to re-charge and stop working so hard.
i was ragged when i walked in after the rain storm that i easily brought the flood inside with me. The surrounding people were astonished to see that I had completely forgotten to take an umbrella with me when I left for the day.
Her ragged dress fell to the floor. “How is this going to work?” he asked, perplexed. She took his hand in hers, silently promising what she knew she could not provide.
The ragged edges of her wings, torn and bloody by too much – just… too much. She could taste death on her tongue, coppery and bitter. Her lips were shreds from too much nervous chewing, and she couldn’t find her mate. She turned her eye slowly, looking, aching to find him, but there were too many of them, too many bodies pressed too closed, too much fighting and gore and death and blood and… and not her mate, her heart, her –
He was stumbling, ragged, and half-mad with poison, but he refused to go down. He dragged himself along that desolate stretch of beach with every ounce of willpower left in his body, every last drop of determination went into that effort to continue on. And you can call it madness if you want, but what I saw was courage. Incredible, unstoppable courage.
The word ragged reminds me of the Raggedy Ann doll I use to have as a child, aside from her hair however there wasn’t anything that was that ragged about her. Maybe Raggedy Andy was the more ragged one? or rugged? hmmmm.
THE RAGGED MAN FOAMED AT HIS EYES AS HE LUSTED AFTER POISON THAT WAS HIS ONLY SOLACE ON COLD CURBSIDES.. his tattered clothes catered to his horrendous appearance
I felt the ragged hairs of his face graze me as he slowly moved in to mock me with his breath.
this one time i made ragged cuts in my skin and it was beautiful. i’m trying to remember it as hideous and painful and really really terrible but it wasn’t. the red was so red and the lines were so clean and nothing really mattered. but it was awful.
ragged. such a judging word. ragged clothes. ragged girl. ragged society. what is wrong with rough edges? ragged…. road to discovery.
there is a shirt laying on my floor with holes everywhere.
i don’t wear it often, but there are holes.
maybe they’re the holes of my life.
the holes of my past.
the holes of my future.
My heart? My soul? My head is spinning ALL THE TIME lately. Our world is getting raggedy. What is it that holds everything together anyways?? It doesn’t feel like love.
She smiled softly as her gaze fell upon the little brown bear that sat on her desk.
She grabbed her backpack and walked off the plane, her jeans were ragged by the end of the trip.
She had a pretty, pink doll with ragged clothes on. Nary a shoe nor a sock in place. But blue eyes like the ocean and a small snub nose like those of typecast Western models. She took Lila everywhere with her. To school and swim class. To her neighbour’s and to Tim’s – her favourite soda joint around the corner from her house.
rough, run ragged. When I think about it, my life seems pretty ragged most of the time. I’m always pushing, and trying to get things done, but it never feels like anything is done with quality and on time. It just makes me tired.
Broken and tired. A curtain in several pieces, the work of several cats. Or one cat, with enough claw skills to make you think there were more involved.
Too many times, the curtain gets caught in heat coming up from the vent, but doesn’t have enough mass to move.
she ragged and ragged on him until his complete spirit broke. He is broken. He is untamed. He is a shadow of his former self. She has conquered his being. She is a succubus of the soul. She is too much for him to handle, and he is a broken man once again. She knows not the torture .
tired so tired. cant drive too sleepy. get to bed but cant sleep must watch conan. raggeddddddddddddd
Clutching the tattered doll, Emmeline sat huddled in the corner. The shouts were moving nearer and nearer; occasional sounds of dishes thrown on the floor. Burying her face in the ragged doll’s chest, Emmeline hid inside herself.
I feel like you and I were just…so trashy. Like we didn’t care.
Were we so in love that we didn’t care that our lives were robbed? that we were ragged? Poor? Was love enough then?
Obviously not, you are just gone. I don’t know who I am without you sometimes, but I know that I am far ahead of you.
This ragged road will one day carry me home
old and worn out. loved and used. exhausted torn and tattered. ragged rags hang raggedly from the trash can. beat up. haggard and well experienced.
The girl’s ragged clothes belied the look in her eyes that she had ever known something besides living on the street…
when she made her boyfriend dress up like raggedy andy, i knew it was destined to end.
you can’t just ask a man to put yarn on his head, put on a doily as a shirt, and expect him to respect you in the morning.
no wonder there were tears.
Walking through the dark engine room, someone left an inspection port open, a little metal plate in the floor like a 4 inch man hole or a mouse hole perhaps. Needless to say the 4 prongs of steel sticking through the hold run up to my knee when I stepped into the hole leaving three ragged tears in the flesh of my leg.
The mask I put on daily has become ragged and threadbare. Holes are appearing, and I’m afraid someone will see inside. I like my mask a lot, you see, and I’d just die if someone to were to see behind it, even a little peak. Suppose the holes get wide enough that I just come spilling out? I’m scared.
My bones grow weak, my muscles putty. I’ve lost my youth, swirling away from me, intangible but everything to my quality of life. Can’t wait to die.
The hunter’s green clothing was in tatters by the time he walked through the door of his house. Collapsing on the floor, he held up the grisly trophy of the evil wolf’s paw for all to see. His wife rushed over to him, trying to tend to his wounds, but he shrugged off the help and stood up by himself, releasing a manly roar from his lungs that shook the house to its very foundation.
ragged is ugly and bummy. not being new or shiny or pretty. ragged reminds me of rags that a peasant may wear or a bum. it reminds me of tattered old…. basically BAD.
Ragged are the torn ends of my sleeves. They’re torn from the constant ripping and tearing that my fingers do. Nervousness, rip and tear. Fear, rip them ragged. I can’t stop, its the only thing that soothes my nerves and my soul. I rip them until they become a mangled mess, never to become whole again. Then I start again, rip and tear, gnaw and slice.
the white picket fence across the lawn had ragged un even tips , no matter how har she tried to hop over she just couldnt get past the ragged tips, they were like evil forces workign against her entry to the mansion where he was.
orphans like in charles dickens novels, hipsters like the ones at bard before i graduated. like leah hennessey. she was nuts as fuck but she’s one of the original bard kids, they’re ruining bard now and i hate it. everyone is a douche, trying too hard to go back to the originals
I feel torn and ragged and the thought of another day pushing through like this. A few deep breaths sooth the edges of my soul.
the ragged old doll was always sitting at the top of the bed. It was like it had its own place, ruling over all the other toys in the room. Although it was not the most appealing of the toys, it still was treated with as much respect as one could give a toy.
worn out. im tired
ragged is my state of mind right now
im sick and tired of all of this
stress and what not
ragged like a used doll
i just need to sit and block out the world
its so hard to do so
but i have to
for my own sake and those around me
when you’re feeling worn down and overworked and there’s nothing left of you to take, you’re ragged. like butter spread over too much bread. you’re tired. you can’t take it anymore. you’re probably ready to give up. all you need is to re-charge and stop working so hard.
My clothes was ragged. I crawled across the sands, the very environment that created us. I crawled towards salvation. Towards nothing.
i was ragged when i walked in after the rain storm that i easily brought the flood inside with me. The surrounding people were astonished to see that I had completely forgotten to take an umbrella with me when I left for the day.
Raggedy Ann was the children’s favorite book; they loved her adventurous spirit. Jessica read to them each night from the sole copy in the library.
Her ragged dress fell to the floor. “How is this going to work?” he asked, perplexed. She took his hand in hers, silently promising what she knew she could not provide.
The ragged edges of her wings, torn and bloody by too much – just… too much. She could taste death on her tongue, coppery and bitter. Her lips were shreds from too much nervous chewing, and she couldn’t find her mate. She turned her eye slowly, looking, aching to find him, but there were too many of them, too many bodies pressed too closed, too much fighting and gore and death and blood and… and not her mate, her heart, her –
the ragged look doesnt register in their minds. they never see how hurt and frustrated i get when im around them. delusional creatures..
Everything is ragged.
He was stumbling, ragged, and half-mad with poison, but he refused to go down. He dragged himself along that desolate stretch of beach with every ounce of willpower left in his body, every last drop of determination went into that effort to continue on. And you can call it madness if you want, but what I saw was courage. Incredible, unstoppable courage.
The word ragged reminds me of the Raggedy Ann doll I use to have as a child, aside from her hair however there wasn’t anything that was that ragged about her. Maybe Raggedy Andy was the more ragged one? or rugged? hmmmm.