Salt makes me think of the sea: where I spend most of my daydreams. I feel less alone when the sea salt air is against my skin and in my hair. Where I can sit all day and it will constantly be the most beautiful place I have ever seen.
She was upset yet again. He always seemed to have that effect on her. For once, she just wished she didn’t have the salty tears to prove her weakness. She wanted to prove she was stronger.
I sat, feeling the salt on the floor. She was so superstitious, always throwing salt over her shoulder no matter how much she spilled. I always laughed at her for it. Now I would give anything to see her eyes widening and the salt floating over her shoulder like doves flying from a cage.
tears. all I’ve know for the past 3 years is the bitter angst salt in my tears. and that’s all iv’e known today. that’s all I’ve known since June. since he gave up on me. and shattered my world. he was a bastard though. and yet i cant remember why i hate him . i cant feel it. god please make me be OK.
the salt shaker was at the end of the table, waiting, sitting. The clock ticked and it never moved an inch. The person sitting in front of me glared with deviled eyes, and I wondered if that salt shaker felt the fear that was evaporating out of my body.
Waves crash against the shore, like lace-like lines of salt water in their wake. I’ve been walking- wandering, really- and my feet are scratched up. The salt burns but I don’t mind because the sky’s much too pretty for worries. No shoes, no compass, no epiphanies, getting lost. No problem. Just fine.
It tastes like salt in his mouth. It’s unwelcome and unexpected and too much. He can’t believe he’s said it but there it is, out in the open, pulling tears from the other boy’s eyes. He swallows, shocked at himself. He knows then what he wants to say, but he doesn’t get the chance. Suddenly it’s too late.
the smell of the ocean, and the taste of your mother’s cooking back home. the waves rush you, forcing you back slowly with their lines of squiggly attack, foaming white and tainted yellow. your feet in the sand, laughing, burning, scampering back and forth only to have each track erased. the air lingers on your tongue, taunting you into the mast expanse of blue. but you can’t take it, you know you can’t quite capture the essence…
Salty water. Pour salt into water. A teaspoon will do. Rinse and spit. Great for wisdom teeth, rashes, brain-worms, demoniac possessions, dark thoughts, broken arms (but not legs) and a broken heart.
Salt is like wet cement. It is difficult to describe the way it tastes. You just “know” it is SALT!
It sure makes food taste better…..just not always better for you-SALT!
A girl sat alone in the alley, clutching a scrap of paper to her chest. Tears had already smudged the letters beyond recognition, but she knew the words by heart. Simple, easy: three simple words said so easily, but with so much meaning. ‘i luv u.’ Even now, she wondered if it was so hard to spell the whole thing, He knew she was a grammar freak. But it was more of a dull thought in the back of her head now. Numb. Like everything else around her. That simple ‘i luv u’ killed her inside, poured salt in those open wounds. The ones inside and the ones on her wrist.
Those were the last words that he wrote right before the gun shattered everything..
He made me put on a stupid blindfold as we drove through town. I had no clue what was happening. But then again, this what I loved him for. He was so romantic and spontaneous. He opened my door and led me onto a spot with uneven ground. I could hear the waves, so I could tell we were at the beach. He took off my blindfold, got on one knee and proposed. And I accepted. Everything was perfect on that salty, sandy beach.
His sweat, hot and salty, ran into his eyes, his mouth, burning him. His heart thundered deep down, threatening to betray him. His limbs shaking, he fought to continue, but now his knees are buckling, now he’s coming to rest on the hard earth.
sprinkling them around
compliments that is.
as common as the salt on the snowy street
part of me wanted to be taken away
by kind words, by warm glances
the world always seemed slower while it snowed in cleveland
and of course i was with you
frozen.
The water was salty.
Not your average salt water. Like, the yuckiest salt water she had ever tasted! She wanted to spit it out. But she couldn’t she had to hold out.
“Gargle gargle gargle!” her brother mocked from the side.
She spit the water out. “Mature.” She tried, even though she lost her voice
My brother had never been as keen as I to put salt on various foods. No, he favoured spice. Pepper was his favourite. We were so different, my brother and I.
As she poured the salt, each grain falling for what seemed like an eternity, I pondered my current state of being. The drugs had definately kicked in, and it was only a matter of time before I lost all mental control.
burns the wound
harder than i can handle
stings like a bitch
i wish it would just go away though
this is harder than i thought
6 years and it’s still the same
the way God took you
it was all in vain
it’s hard to bare
that the reality is
you’ll never be there
i want to call you
but you won’t answer the phone
up in heaven,
do they have voicemail?
White demon, inflicting pain. Sinner, sinner never sugar. Taker, taker of the best. Giver, giver of the worst. You are salt on an open sore. Fire to an old burn. Rekindling pain.
Salt and pepper. The pair of little shakers which sits on every properly set table. How many people actually use them? Do they taste their food first and then add some salt? Or is it a habit to sit down, shake some pepper on your food and then eat? I don’t use much of either. I like bland food.
Digging into her knees, grinding scars in that unprotected flesh. She should have studied more, gotten that one answer right instead of… not. She won’t do it again.
All of the food in this region is full of salt. The locals wobble around from pillar to post thirsting for water. I am not sure if this is some kind of Morton conspiracy or a lack of cooking skills on the part of the locals. Either way, my visits here will be shorter and shorter.
my knees burnt as i knelt on the scratchy surface. saddened eyes. how much longer she thought? tick, tick; tock. time is at a halt. maybe if no one is looking… skipped across her waves. takes a peek looks around. all staring. silly, silly. i know i cant get out of this. she wakes. “what a weird dream.” its real in all sense.
the salty tang of the ocean rushes up to meet my face, burning my lungs and stinging my eyes, and i try to rise above and to rise against but it’s useless, it’s futile, it’s hopeless, just like i am and just like everything i try to be is. the bitter taste scorches its way down my throat, into the pit of my soul, clawing its way into and through my heart–salt. burning salt.
sprinkle, sprinkle.
shake, shake, shake.
oh, now that tastes so much better.
must have it on popcorn.
must have it on watermelon.
ugh-oh – high blood pressure.
the salty tang of the ocean rushes up to meet my face, burning my lungs and stinging my eyes, and i try to rise above and to rise against but it’s useless, it’s futile, it’s hopeless, just like i am and just like everything i try to be is. the bitter taste scorches its way down my throat, into the pit of my soul, clawing its way int and through my heart–salt. burning salt.
Once upon a time, I went to an Island called “Sal”, or in English, “Salt”. The island was a tiny little thing off the coast of Somalia, and it was covered in sand.
Childish games. Pouring salt on snails, it feels like alcohol in an open wound. It stings, it burns. Eventually, you come back around, but the pain is always there. Hidden, burrowed deeply. Just like your first love.
But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men. I am the salt worth using.
I came home crying about the speeding ticket that I got. She took one look at me and spat in my eye.
“Get out of my house,” she said. “You are a disgrace to me.”
Salt makes me think of the sea: where I spend most of my daydreams. I feel less alone when the sea salt air is against my skin and in my hair. Where I can sit all day and it will constantly be the most beautiful place I have ever seen.
She was upset yet again. He always seemed to have that effect on her. For once, she just wished she didn’t have the salty tears to prove her weakness. She wanted to prove she was stronger.
I sat, feeling the salt on the floor. She was so superstitious, always throwing salt over her shoulder no matter how much she spilled. I always laughed at her for it. Now I would give anything to see her eyes widening and the salt floating over her shoulder like doves flying from a cage.
salt.. the sea is full of salt.. salty can be a kind of behavoiur which is not very good..salt is a movie with angelina jolie in it.. salt is NaCl..
tears. all I’ve know for the past 3 years is the bitter angst salt in my tears. and that’s all iv’e known today. that’s all I’ve known since June. since he gave up on me. and shattered my world. he was a bastard though. and yet i cant remember why i hate him . i cant feel it. god please make me be OK.
My life is falling like grains of salt.
the salt shaker was at the end of the table, waiting, sitting. The clock ticked and it never moved an inch. The person sitting in front of me glared with deviled eyes, and I wondered if that salt shaker felt the fear that was evaporating out of my body.
the salty taste of kisses on his neck, the smell of work and outdoors….everyone time I breathe him in I’m home.
Her cheek tasted like salt. The wetness of it made me smile. I love that she can get so involved in something as simple as a movie.
Waves crash against the shore, like lace-like lines of salt water in their wake. I’ve been walking- wandering, really- and my feet are scratched up. The salt burns but I don’t mind because the sky’s much too pretty for worries. No shoes, no compass, no epiphanies, getting lost. No problem. Just fine.
Lace the prom and fru
ckul mine the dageijs d
go horn den keid seur
It tastes like salt in his mouth. It’s unwelcome and unexpected and too much. He can’t believe he’s said it but there it is, out in the open, pulling tears from the other boy’s eyes. He swallows, shocked at himself. He knows then what he wants to say, but he doesn’t get the chance. Suddenly it’s too late.
the smell of the ocean, and the taste of your mother’s cooking back home. the waves rush you, forcing you back slowly with their lines of squiggly attack, foaming white and tainted yellow. your feet in the sand, laughing, burning, scampering back and forth only to have each track erased. the air lingers on your tongue, taunting you into the mast expanse of blue. but you can’t take it, you know you can’t quite capture the essence…
Salty water. Pour salt into water. A teaspoon will do. Rinse and spit. Great for wisdom teeth, rashes, brain-worms, demoniac possessions, dark thoughts, broken arms (but not legs) and a broken heart.
really-
the white stuff
hard to describe
the thing that makes the flavor bright
that will give you a hard attack spice
get it under control
not 2 much
Salt is like wet cement. It is difficult to describe the way it tastes. You just “know” it is SALT!
It sure makes food taste better…..just not always better for you-SALT!
A girl sat alone in the alley, clutching a scrap of paper to her chest. Tears had already smudged the letters beyond recognition, but she knew the words by heart. Simple, easy: three simple words said so easily, but with so much meaning. ‘i luv u.’ Even now, she wondered if it was so hard to spell the whole thing, He knew she was a grammar freak. But it was more of a dull thought in the back of her head now. Numb. Like everything else around her. That simple ‘i luv u’ killed her inside, poured salt in those open wounds. The ones inside and the ones on her wrist.
Those were the last words that he wrote right before the gun shattered everything..
He made me put on a stupid blindfold as we drove through town. I had no clue what was happening. But then again, this what I loved him for. He was so romantic and spontaneous. He opened my door and led me onto a spot with uneven ground. I could hear the waves, so I could tell we were at the beach. He took off my blindfold, got on one knee and proposed. And I accepted. Everything was perfect on that salty, sandy beach.
His sweat, hot and salty, ran into his eyes, his mouth, burning him. His heart thundered deep down, threatening to betray him. His limbs shaking, he fought to continue, but now his knees are buckling, now he’s coming to rest on the hard earth.
sprinkling them around
compliments that is.
as common as the salt on the snowy street
part of me wanted to be taken away
by kind words, by warm glances
the world always seemed slower while it snowed in cleveland
and of course i was with you
frozen.
can i get some salt with that mozart flute concerto??
The water was salty.
Not your average salt water. Like, the yuckiest salt water she had ever tasted! She wanted to spit it out. But she couldn’t she had to hold out.
“Gargle gargle gargle!” her brother mocked from the side.
She spit the water out. “Mature.” She tried, even though she lost her voice
My brother had never been as keen as I to put salt on various foods. No, he favoured spice. Pepper was his favourite. We were so different, my brother and I.
As she poured the salt, each grain falling for what seemed like an eternity, I pondered my current state of being. The drugs had definately kicked in, and it was only a matter of time before I lost all mental control.
burns the wound
harder than i can handle
stings like a bitch
i wish it would just go away though
this is harder than i thought
6 years and it’s still the same
the way God took you
it was all in vain
it’s hard to bare
that the reality is
you’ll never be there
i want to call you
but you won’t answer the phone
up in heaven,
do they have voicemail?
© LL
There was nothing better than adding a touch, a taste, an adventure. It was so simple, yet added so much more. So much more.
White demon, inflicting pain. Sinner, sinner never sugar. Taker, taker of the best. Giver, giver of the worst. You are salt on an open sore. Fire to an old burn. Rekindling pain.
Salt and pepper. The pair of little shakers which sits on every properly set table. How many people actually use them? Do they taste their food first and then add some salt? Or is it a habit to sit down, shake some pepper on your food and then eat? I don’t use much of either. I like bland food.
Digging into her knees, grinding scars in that unprotected flesh. She should have studied more, gotten that one answer right instead of… not. She won’t do it again.
All of the food in this region is full of salt. The locals wobble around from pillar to post thirsting for water. I am not sure if this is some kind of Morton conspiracy or a lack of cooking skills on the part of the locals. Either way, my visits here will be shorter and shorter.
my knees burnt as i knelt on the scratchy surface. saddened eyes. how much longer she thought? tick, tick; tock. time is at a halt. maybe if no one is looking… skipped across her waves. takes a peek looks around. all staring. silly, silly. i know i cant get out of this. she wakes. “what a weird dream.” its real in all sense.
the salty tang of the ocean rushes up to meet my face, burning my lungs and stinging my eyes, and i try to rise above and to rise against but it’s useless, it’s futile, it’s hopeless, just like i am and just like everything i try to be is. the bitter taste scorches its way down my throat, into the pit of my soul, clawing its way into and through my heart–salt. burning salt.
SALT-ar SALT-amontes.. SPANISH♥
sprinkle, sprinkle.
shake, shake, shake.
oh, now that tastes so much better.
must have it on popcorn.
must have it on watermelon.
ugh-oh – high blood pressure.
the salty tang of the ocean rushes up to meet my face, burning my lungs and stinging my eyes, and i try to rise above and to rise against but it’s useless, it’s futile, it’s hopeless, just like i am and just like everything i try to be is. the bitter taste scorches its way down my throat, into the pit of my soul, clawing its way int and through my heart–salt. burning salt.
Once upon a time, I went to an Island called “Sal”, or in English, “Salt”. The island was a tiny little thing off the coast of Somalia, and it was covered in sand.
Water, tablets, Na.
Either way, you’re dehydrated as fuck if you have too much.
Childish games. Pouring salt on snails, it feels like alcohol in an open wound. It stings, it burns. Eventually, you come back around, but the pain is always there. Hidden, burrowed deeply. Just like your first love.
But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men. I am the salt worth using.