I want to write more than I do. I want to create. But my will is ragged. I succumb to the internet when I have free time. I don’t read. I don’t write. I don’t create.
there is a ragged edge on my fingernail. i nibbled at it like a piece of cheese, like a rat with a hankering for flesh. bits and pieces entered my throat, and i gagged. not tasty at all. bland.
the edges of a page are ragged. the edges of my denim shorts are ragged. my breaths after running a full mile for the first time are ragged. my thoughts when I’m tired are ragged. my dogs’ fur is ragged after they run through the bushes.
Ragged. Gagged. Bagged. Hagged? Ugh… I don’t know. Umm, ragged is a good word. Totally. It’s very… descriptive. And useful. For describing stuff. “He was ragged.” Is that the correct use? I’m going to say that it is. Yep.
ragged with tiredness, insomniac, that’s the only reason I’m even doing this
see me dragging down the street to the bus which will probably splash me with rain
collected into a puddle
why does it do that?
and when will I get some sleep?
on a park bench somewhere please
would be better than this
We are knee-deep in Winter, the white of
December still clawing at us, menacing,
persistent in running us ragged.
It would be better for our crackling hands,
droopy eyelids, and weathered bodies
if Winter were like lightning – terrible, yet
over in the blink of an eye.
The man was walking around paris with his rabbits. He looked quite ragged, but he was, in fact, the king of underwater empire “Allastia”. He was going to get some cupcakes for his visit with the prime minister of Egypt.
Old yellow blanket that my grandmother gave my mother whom gave it to me. I smell the old scent of my old room back in Chicago. The blanket of security.. The blanket of love.. That ragged little thing kept me safe every night.
Her ragged dress caught in the door as she hastily tried to exit the house. She yanked at it hard, desperate to leave regardless that it was one of only two dress she had.
Torn flags were flying with their ragged edges snapping in the wind. The angry sound bounced around in a random and irratic manner. She hunched over closer to the wall as it to avoid it, or slide past unnoticed.
being bullied, this is a system that operates in some universities in sri Lanka. Some think it is more than being bullied but a form of comradry that helps break the ice, but i dont think so
She’s bleeding and dying. She can’t move and he’s about to die. Her legs are numb and her knee cap is sticking out. She feels elated. She wants to get this over with but she knows he isn’t done with her. Her nails dig into the soft and damp wooden floors.
Ever had to run yourself ragged to achieve a goal? I tend to appreciate what I have achieved even more after all of the time and effort I placed into pursuing it.
The cloth was frayed and ragged from hiding her face, her being from herself and everyone around her. It was more than a mask, it was a swathe of her disguise
It was a doll. A memoire of a girl’s past.
She didn’t know what do to with it anymore since she had grown old. But there it lay in the box, ready to be packed away. With a final sigh, she closed the box and taped it shut. And it stayed like that.
burned edged. a ripped seam. look at what youve done to me. broken into these threads and shards. my heart is ragged, beating hard. can you see these unraveling lines. these shatters words those trusted lines. he
The hat was ragged. Made of straw and falling apart it looked like a gust of wind could blow it to dust but yet it endured. Like many things like the lives of many it seemed so weak and yet it persisted hanging on to his head in the wind like we hold on to dear life in the great chaos of the world.
A familiar word to my being. It’s a constant in my life and has been for 2.5 years. Up at 5 everyday…dishes, laundry, cleaning, cooking, showering (if I’m lucky).
burned destroyed. a broken fragement of the rich tapestry that once was. piled in a sullen heap. forgotten in the corner. left the to the will of dust and rats. memories
like the pages my heart fills with ease.
Like the edges torn out by you when you left without looking back
like the breaths i emitted between tears
like the edges of the glass broke
The doll was ragged and was quite possibly named Raggedy Ann, but the story behind that was entirely unrelated to this one. This doll was important. Or at least important to someone. Maybe to you? Who knows. What we do know is that the doll was there when everything started, and was able to see the whole events through to the end.
ragged means dirty, worn. ragged is old jeans, ripped, torn, and used. ragged is musty and wrecked wash clothes with holes. ragged reminds me of old dolls, ragged dolls.
His shadow was as ragged as the edges of his eyes, and he moved with the grace of a falling star. I must admit I was fascinated by his paradoxical beauty, by the dark gold hum of his eyes, by the way his voice caught like a wave breaking in the night.
There were secrets hidden in the spaces between his fingers and I spent far too many of my days wishing I could feel them, that I might know even the smallest fragment of the days he had lived as an ephemeral specter upon the earth.
But the years are cruel to us all, and I knew we both still bled the same.
Your ragged hair and your mischievous smile never ceased to lull me into some sort of daze when you walked into the room. Two years later, as you lay in my bed and tell me you still love me, a tear falls down my cheek and breaks me. My heart is now more ragged than your hair.
Broken pieces of glass fly about, grabbing his shirt or at least what’s left of it, my breath grows haggard and dense against the fumes, but I’ll be damned if he dies before I get a chance to say everything the way it was always meant to go, just to understand.
my heart is frayed around the edges. ragged torn pierced by your loss. there’s a black hole blood clot in the center sucking up all the juicy pink and gold goodness we made. And you are licking the salty tears from my face and we are laughing and then we are not and i know, i know, i know, my heart is ragged and bloody and it will take a while to scab over and harden with fresh armor, before you come home and rip it off.
this word makes no sense to me. Maybe its because i am not from america but it reminds me of rug. Like rugrats. man i loved that show. Or what else could that mean?. Its in past tense wich means its a verb. verb? i dont even remember literature that good. Or is it an adjective? wow its been a while since i am not in
She was a ragged girl, torn up inside. Drugs had ravaged her body, her clothes, her spirit her mind, her soul. Her former lover had been fucking someone else, an incident she took quite to heart. She bleed most of it away, the pain.
My heart is ragged. Ragged torn dilapidated because you are leaving leavin gleaving. it’s crusting over with scabs but not yet. right now it’s bleeding. ragged. ripped. crying crying tears salty tears you licked off my face and laughed. and I wiped yours away from your ears. parting is such sweet sorrow- now i understand.
I run my imagination through all manner of agility courses while trying to think up new twists to old themes. I ask it to jump through hoops and do loopy-loops. And when it’s tired, worn ragged, I give it a pat on the head and a little treat before I send it off to sleep.
She looks ragged, like she’s been worn inside and out. Ragged like the bottoms of her jeans. Torn like the arms of her loose sweatshirt. Ragged like the edge of a cliff and just as muddy.
I want to write more than I do. I want to create. But my will is ragged. I succumb to the internet when I have free time. I don’t read. I don’t write. I don’t create.
there is a ragged edge on my fingernail. i nibbled at it like a piece of cheese, like a rat with a hankering for flesh. bits and pieces entered my throat, and i gagged. not tasty at all. bland.
the edges of a page are ragged. the edges of my denim shorts are ragged. my breaths after running a full mile for the first time are ragged. my thoughts when I’m tired are ragged. my dogs’ fur is ragged after they run through the bushes.
Ragged. Gagged. Bagged. Hagged? Ugh… I don’t know. Umm, ragged is a good word. Totally. It’s very… descriptive. And useful. For describing stuff. “He was ragged.” Is that the correct use? I’m going to say that it is. Yep.
ragged with tiredness, insomniac, that’s the only reason I’m even doing this
see me dragging down the street to the bus which will probably splash me with rain
collected into a puddle
why does it do that?
and when will I get some sleep?
on a park bench somewhere please
would be better than this
my clothes are totally ragged because I fought with my boyfriend a few minutes ago he actually pulled my shirt and its tragged,a aopjfipafomg.
i have no idea. i suck in this. lets just go home
I feel ragged. I looked ragged. My soul is reflected in this word. How did you know? The universe must be telling me something!
The ragged look, ragged face, all tells the story of a ragged life. Life has never been fair
We are knee-deep in Winter, the white of
December still clawing at us, menacing,
persistent in running us ragged.
It would be better for our crackling hands,
droopy eyelids, and weathered bodies
if Winter were like lightning – terrible, yet
over in the blink of an eye.
The man was walking around paris with his rabbits. He looked quite ragged, but he was, in fact, the king of underwater empire “Allastia”. He was going to get some cupcakes for his visit with the prime minister of Egypt.
I’m ragged and worn down,
I don’t even know the difference,
Between up and down.
This year has been hard,
I’ve struggled, I’ve fought,
I’ve fallen down and scraped my knees,
But it’s all for the better…so I thought.
Life has only gradually gotten harder,
But I guess what’s another year,
Without a little wear and tear?
Tattered and destroyed, the t-shirt stares grimly up at me from the plastic bag.
“I can’t keep you”, I say.
It stares.
Old yellow blanket that my grandmother gave my mother whom gave it to me. I smell the old scent of my old room back in Chicago. The blanket of security.. The blanket of love.. That ragged little thing kept me safe every night.
ragged rag dolls. ragged clothes. ragged silk sheets. formerly glorious. ragged reminders of glory gone past.
Her ragged dress caught in the door as she hastily tried to exit the house. She yanked at it hard, desperate to leave regardless that it was one of only two dress she had.
Torn flags were flying with their ragged edges snapping in the wind. The angry sound bounced around in a random and irratic manner. She hunched over closer to the wall as it to avoid it, or slide past unnoticed.
being bullied, this is a system that operates in some universities in sri Lanka. Some think it is more than being bullied but a form of comradry that helps break the ice, but i dont think so
She’s bleeding and dying. She can’t move and he’s about to die. Her legs are numb and her knee cap is sticking out. She feels elated. She wants to get this over with but she knows he isn’t done with her. Her nails dig into the soft and damp wooden floors.
Ever had to run yourself ragged to achieve a goal? I tend to appreciate what I have achieved even more after all of the time and effort I placed into pursuing it.
The cloth was frayed and ragged from hiding her face, her being from herself and everyone around her. It was more than a mask, it was a swathe of her disguise
It was a doll. A memoire of a girl’s past.
She didn’t know what do to with it anymore since she had grown old. But there it lay in the box, ready to be packed away. With a final sigh, she closed the box and taped it shut. And it stayed like that.
burned edged. a ripped seam. look at what youve done to me. broken into these threads and shards. my heart is ragged, beating hard. can you see these unraveling lines. these shatters words those trusted lines. he
The hat was ragged. Made of straw and falling apart it looked like a gust of wind could blow it to dust but yet it endured. Like many things like the lives of many it seemed so weak and yet it persisted hanging on to his head in the wind like we hold on to dear life in the great chaos of the world.
A familiar word to my being. It’s a constant in my life and has been for 2.5 years. Up at 5 everyday…dishes, laundry, cleaning, cooking, showering (if I’m lucky).
burned destroyed. a broken fragement of the rich tapestry that once was. piled in a sullen heap. forgotten in the corner. left the to the will of dust and rats. memories
like the pages my heart fills with ease.
Like the edges torn out by you when you left without looking back
like the breaths i emitted between tears
like the edges of the glass broke
The doll was ragged and was quite possibly named Raggedy Ann, but the story behind that was entirely unrelated to this one. This doll was important. Or at least important to someone. Maybe to you? Who knows. What we do know is that the doll was there when everything started, and was able to see the whole events through to the end.
ragged means dirty, worn. ragged is old jeans, ripped, torn, and used. ragged is musty and wrecked wash clothes with holes. ragged reminds me of old dolls, ragged dolls.
His shadow was as ragged as the edges of his eyes, and he moved with the grace of a falling star. I must admit I was fascinated by his paradoxical beauty, by the dark gold hum of his eyes, by the way his voice caught like a wave breaking in the night.
There were secrets hidden in the spaces between his fingers and I spent far too many of my days wishing I could feel them, that I might know even the smallest fragment of the days he had lived as an ephemeral specter upon the earth.
But the years are cruel to us all, and I knew we both still bled the same.
Your ragged hair and your mischievous smile never ceased to lull me into some sort of daze when you walked into the room. Two years later, as you lay in my bed and tell me you still love me, a tear falls down my cheek and breaks me. My heart is now more ragged than your hair.
Broken pieces of glass fly about, grabbing his shirt or at least what’s left of it, my breath grows haggard and dense against the fumes, but I’ll be damned if he dies before I get a chance to say everything the way it was always meant to go, just to understand.
my heart is frayed around the edges. ragged torn pierced by your loss. there’s a black hole blood clot in the center sucking up all the juicy pink and gold goodness we made. And you are licking the salty tears from my face and we are laughing and then we are not and i know, i know, i know, my heart is ragged and bloody and it will take a while to scab over and harden with fresh armor, before you come home and rip it off.
this word makes no sense to me. Maybe its because i am not from america but it reminds me of rug. Like rugrats. man i loved that show. Or what else could that mean?. Its in past tense wich means its a verb. verb? i dont even remember literature that good. Or is it an adjective? wow its been a while since i am not in
She was a ragged girl, torn up inside. Drugs had ravaged her body, her clothes, her spirit her mind, her soul. Her former lover had been fucking someone else, an incident she took quite to heart. She bleed most of it away, the pain.
My heart is ragged. Ragged torn dilapidated because you are leaving leavin gleaving. it’s crusting over with scabs but not yet. right now it’s bleeding. ragged. ripped. crying crying tears salty tears you licked off my face and laughed. and I wiped yours away from your ears. parting is such sweet sorrow- now i understand.
I run my imagination through all manner of agility courses while trying to think up new twists to old themes. I ask it to jump through hoops and do loopy-loops. And when it’s tired, worn ragged, I give it a pat on the head and a little treat before I send it off to sleep.
The stained, yellowing pages of the ragged book sit open as they have for years, along lonely the shore. Its owner abandoned it long ago.
She looks ragged, like she’s been worn inside and out. Ragged like the bottoms of her jeans. Torn like the arms of her loose sweatshirt. Ragged like the edge of a cliff and just as muddy.
Need a shower and a new look
Wash off the dirt
Place some unique patches on the rips
ragged jeans. feeling ragged after a bad day at work. ragged thoughts. beat down. i hope this is ragged that im thinking of.