OH the strain of getting in the morning, as if it may not be possible. The muscles ache, the back is sore, the ankles and feel protest in the most vociferous manner. With a little time and coffee all will be well.
I feel like I’m rapped in a gas chamber. The green poison creeps up through the holes at my feet, tickling my toes, licking up my calves, slithering into my head. This fills my lungs until my body strains and then bursts and reality sets in.
The timbers creaked as the truck pulled across the old bridge. It had never been meant to support this sort of weight, but the soldiers inside had no choice. Crossing the bridge was the only way out of the valley, and the valley wasn’t theirs anymore.
He strained under the weight of it. Muscles tensing, blinking the sweat from his eyes. He heaved the giant metal pipe onto his shoulders and pushed with a final effort upwards.
“Any time now…” he growled, teeth gritted together. She seemed not to hear him.
“I’m looking for it…” she whispered airily, lifting her hand to dismiss him. With her other hand she delicately skimmed the wall from one end to the next. “Ah!” she found the spot and now pressed her palm to a part of the wall. A bright purple circle of light grew around her palm on the wall and a clicking of gears could be heard from different sections of the room. The temperature immediately decreased to something tolerable, and the man could relax under the weight of the beam now. “That should do it!” she clapped her hands together and spun around on her heel. “Wasn’t too much to whine about, was there?”
“I’ll trade places with you next time, then. You hold up the five hundred pound, five hundred degree pipe and I’ll work the crazy magic,” he pushed his damp hair back and wandered about the room. “What’s next?”
“Hm,” she pressed a finger to her lip and cocked her head to the side, waiting a beat longer than necessary. “There,” now pointing to a corner of the room to a door, either unnoticed or non existent only a moment ago. He without hesitation pulled the door wide open and was greeted with a blast of frost and snow. The picture before them revealed a wasteland of it. A laugh escaped him.
“Shall we?” but she was already tracing ahead of him. He rolled his eyes when she did not seem to respond to the change in atmosphere. Straining to pull the door behind them closed again, they stood together in the snow.
The strain was too much. She felt like Atlas, holding the world upon her shoulders,only in reverse. She had to let go. So she did. The wind whistled in her ears as she fell.
to grab a rope by its last thread,
to milk a cow until utters are sack dry,
why do we squeeze life out of all>?
are we human? or pure artififce?
Trasncend, and bestow, not only the former.
Cupid thrums his harp in elegance,
as should you strum desire’s beckons!
My eyes strain to look at him through the haze of lust and a sleepless night. The sun shines in my eyes and illuminates a spot on the wall that I try to focus on. “Why are the blinds open,” I ask sleepily, and he struggles to close them before pulling me back into slumber.
There was so much strain between she and I. What caused this strain; why was it so hard to communicate, to connect? It feels like a block in my throat. Does she feel the same strain? It is easier for her? Is she completely oblivious to how much I struggle to connect? Moms…..
The strain of the ropes was leaving a red burning mark over his wrists. He tried to get out of them but a cold heartless laugh told him he wasn’t leaving.
I am straining my eyes to look at this glass. I strain to remember that it is just glass. It doesn’t define me. There is a world behind me. Straining to remember the truth.
OH the strain of getting in the morning, as if it may not be possible. The muscles ache, the back is sore, the ankles and feel protest in the most vociferous manner. With a little time and coffee all will be well.
the strain
of perfection
or the ideal of it
hangs like heavy
hearts bleeding
out
out
of our making
the love that
i’m taking
is never love
at all
I feel like I’m rapped in a gas chamber. The green poison creeps up through the holes at my feet, tickling my toes, licking up my calves, slithering into my head. This fills my lungs until my body strains and then bursts and reality sets in.
I have more than enough strains on what I can do right now. I do not need your child adding more.
The timbers creaked as the truck pulled across the old bridge. It had never been meant to support this sort of weight, but the soldiers inside had no choice. Crossing the bridge was the only way out of the valley, and the valley wasn’t theirs anymore.
strain is an word abour bla bla holy
Strong, force, might, big person, someone who have power, push really hard, manage, work hard,
It was an ultimate length to which we could go. The two sides were barely connected. …Yet this fabric wouldn’t hold it.
(a/n: what am I doing..?)
He strained under the weight of it. Muscles tensing, blinking the sweat from his eyes. He heaved the giant metal pipe onto his shoulders and pushed with a final effort upwards.
“Any time now…” he growled, teeth gritted together. She seemed not to hear him.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
“I’m looking for it…” she whispered airily, lifting her hand to dismiss him. With her other hand she delicately skimmed the wall from one end to the next. “Ah!” she found the spot and now pressed her palm to a part of the wall. A bright purple circle of light grew around her palm on the wall and a clicking of gears could be heard from different sections of the room. The temperature immediately decreased to something tolerable, and the man could relax under the weight of the beam now. “That should do it!” she clapped her hands together and spun around on her heel. “Wasn’t too much to whine about, was there?”
“I’ll trade places with you next time, then. You hold up the five hundred pound, five hundred degree pipe and I’ll work the crazy magic,” he pushed his damp hair back and wandered about the room. “What’s next?”
“Hm,” she pressed a finger to her lip and cocked her head to the side, waiting a beat longer than necessary. “There,” now pointing to a corner of the room to a door, either unnoticed or non existent only a moment ago. He without hesitation pulled the door wide open and was greeted with a blast of frost and snow. The picture before them revealed a wasteland of it. A laugh escaped him.
“Shall we?” but she was already tracing ahead of him. He rolled his eyes when she did not seem to respond to the change in atmosphere. Straining to pull the door behind them closed again, they stood together in the snow.
I strained against the pressure of his 14 inch cock inside of my tight vagina.God, it hurt.
The strain was too much. She felt like Atlas, holding the world upon her shoulders,only in reverse. She had to let go. So she did. The wind whistled in her ears as she fell.
to grab a rope by its last thread,
to milk a cow until utters are sack dry,
why do we squeeze life out of all>?
are we human? or pure artififce?
Trasncend, and bestow, not only the former.
Cupid thrums his harp in elegance,
as should you strum desire’s beckons!
My eyes strain to look at him through the haze of lust and a sleepless night. The sun shines in my eyes and illuminates a spot on the wall that I try to focus on. “Why are the blinds open,” I ask sleepily, and he struggles to close them before pulling me back into slumber.
There was so much strain between she and I. What caused this strain; why was it so hard to communicate, to connect? It feels like a block in my throat. Does she feel the same strain? It is easier for her? Is she completely oblivious to how much I struggle to connect? Moms…..
The strain of the ropes was leaving a red burning mark over his wrists. He tried to get out of them but a cold heartless laugh told him he wasn’t leaving.
I am straining my eyes to look at this glass. I strain to remember that it is just glass. It doesn’t define me. There is a world behind me. Straining to remember the truth.