I’d like to think that a strand of string always leads to a good thing. That if I follow any old thread, I know it wouldn’t lead me down to the surface of a lake bed, but rather somewhere nice, and the visit would surely not be concise. It would be somewhere I could stay. The polite atmosphere of a café, from my place, all would stay away, I could sit and crochet until my wrist falls off. And there would be cake too.
String, chocking and tugging dragging us along concrete rodes, helpless and lifeless. The corpse of your memory is something I will never escape. Pulling me through dark tunnels and open roads with newly found thoughts of apologies.
My heart is on a string and you are pulling it along after you, letting it drag along the ground and through the dirt. When you finally pull it up closer to you, it is battered and bruised and the edges are not as shiny and bright as they were when I first gave it to you. You look at it and realize that this heart is not as picture perfect as you thought it was. After all, you have been carrying it along for quite a while now.
i see a string on the side of the road and i pick it up and run in circles with it attached to my wrist, as a car drives by it attached to the string and pulls me along with the car, tumbling and falling to my death, all because of the stupid string
something that is attached to something. it could be a leash or a yoyo. it s something that makes up yarn which a cat plays with. string is something that people flaus their teeth with.
strings connecting us to one another
i always said i could leave because nothing could hold me down
seeing that you’re leaving now and I’m still here
considering the possiblility of staying
this is the place were all my unfinished dreams lay
where me and you were WE
200 pounds…
200 pounds of string used to make this… this thing. I don’t even know what it is. But it looks cool. It kind of looks like… String. One really big piece of string.
as she looked at the string she realized it symbolized her life. it was worn and battered but still strong enough to secure the things it needed too, to hold them in place to prevent them from falling to pieces
He dangled the string over the porch, grinning with delight each time the cat’s paw appeared on the edge. If its claw caught in the threads, he’d gently remove it and wait for it to try again. “I think I need to tell Grandma you’re down there.”
The tie that bins us,an single thread possess an infinite amount of possibility. Anything you can imagine it can create this is the making of a world of it’s own and yet with a single tug it becomes nothing more than a memory.
The spider was scrambling along the ground, trying to get untied from the string that entangled him. With every few inches he was yanked back by the boy. The spider was angry, and wanted nothing more than to jump on the boys face and eat his eyeballs.
string is fun. string is amazing. string can take you places you never thought you could go. it is long, can be short, any color, any sort. String is what the world depends on. string is life. or is life string? the strings of life connect to form one massive universe.
I fished around in my pocket, withdrawing a few crumpled one-dollar bills, a gum wrapper, and a bit of lint. I sighed, going into my other pocket and coming up empty, save for a small length of string.
She pulls upon the string, hoping to lengthen her lovers life. The fates laugh as she tugs harder upon it. Maybe next time the fates will care but for now they’re just as cold as they always have been.
I don’t understand because I just go this word last time I did this one word thing. String…. A kite is flying through the air and the wind is carrying it far away except then it falls because kites never work like they do in the movies or commercials. Good metaphors, though.
String spindles, still yet with the combined of efforts of the fall; manage to rip independent bodies. Or shall i say bodices. Bonded bodice hanging from your frame
I was thinking of life as a string. Really we all have our own strings in life. They uravel and interwein in eachother. Were all conected into a big picture. But in the end we’re all just string.
he strings you along, the pet of his dreams that nevertheless failed to give the fantastical painting the sheen of beauty. beauty is human and humans are ideas and ideas are strung together by the golden teeth of dogs.
It was like all the strings inside him broke. Unraveled. There was nothing else to do. Nothing else to hide. Nothing else to say. How it happened…. It just did. Life was doing him, instead of the other way around. We need to live. We are in control. Not anyone else.
long, soft to touch, strong, can be used for almost anything. Can be used to tie a shoe, or something bigger like a dog. It can be a helpful reminder on a finger, or a way to hold something back.
the string of pearls scattered to the floor – grandmother’s pearls, gone, rolled beneath the feet of the dancers, pulsating to the beat in the dark club.
“How long is a piece of string?”
“What?” I replied, rolling over to face the setting sun.
“Isn’t it like…a saying, or something? ‘How long is a piece of string?'”
“Well, that’s stupid,” I said. “Why not just say, ‘How big is a piece of bread?”
tying the string together, tying the knot, linking us together as one. hoping that each day will be as great as this one was. i want to spend the entirety of my life together with you.
when you tie a string around your finger to remember something important. what would happen if people did this for memories? you wouldn’t have enough fingers for all the string you would be keeping around.
So there was this string, and nobody knew where it led. Everyone in the town knew it was there, buried under them, but nobody acknowledged it–their grandparents and ancestors had let it be, so they did the same. But there it remained, leading to some other town, connecting all humanity–but they never really knew.
she ties me to the rising tied, strung up like a little puppet, but now I’ve cut myself from her grasp… that vampire misses me she wishes me, all over her dreams wants me and aches for me, to be back where i was. but that wont happen, i have graduated from her school of love torture. She wants what exist only in the past.
A single string, attatched to a single rope, from a single tile, in an empty ceiling. A picture, attatched to that string, with a single face on it, smiling.
there is a lot of string in this world. string connects people. string can connect things. if you tie it, it makes a connection. people should be more like strings, because connections in life are very important.
String theory is the word that comes to mind. I know Stephen Hawking has written about it but it comes into question a lot as to whether or not it is true or not as scientists dismiss any theories that don’t support it, which I think sucks.
The world is on a string… twirling and spinning at the end the way a dead man hangs from the gallows. This isn’t the place you imagined. This isn’t the home you dreamed of. This just is. It’s nothing more, nor nothing less than everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you’ve ever needed.
A string is thin and can tie things together or can be used to delineate space. It is simple – rope maybe, or a command in computer science. It is infinite in its ability to go on and on and on length-wise, like a horizon
I’d like to think that a strand of string always leads to a good thing. That if I follow any old thread, I know it wouldn’t lead me down to the surface of a lake bed, but rather somewhere nice, and the visit would surely not be concise. It would be somewhere I could stay. The polite atmosphere of a café, from my place, all would stay away, I could sit and crochet until my wrist falls off. And there would be cake too.
That’s where my string leads.
String is so nice. I remember putting it in my mouth when I was little. I was a weird child back then. I did not know how to tie a string into a bow.
String, chocking and tugging dragging us along concrete rodes, helpless and lifeless. The corpse of your memory is something I will never escape. Pulling me through dark tunnels and open roads with newly found thoughts of apologies.
My heart is on a string and you are pulling it along after you, letting it drag along the ground and through the dirt. When you finally pull it up closer to you, it is battered and bruised and the edges are not as shiny and bright as they were when I first gave it to you. You look at it and realize that this heart is not as picture perfect as you thought it was. After all, you have been carrying it along for quite a while now.
i see a string on the side of the road and i pick it up and run in circles with it attached to my wrist, as a car drives by it attached to the string and pulls me along with the car, tumbling and falling to my death, all because of the stupid string
something that is attached to something. it could be a leash or a yoyo. it s something that makes up yarn which a cat plays with. string is something that people flaus their teeth with.
strings connecting us to one another
i always said i could leave because nothing could hold me down
seeing that you’re leaving now and I’m still here
considering the possiblility of staying
this is the place were all my unfinished dreams lay
where me and you were WE
200 pounds…
200 pounds of string used to make this… this thing. I don’t even know what it is. But it looks cool. It kind of looks like… String. One really big piece of string.
What a waste.
He played with her like she was a puppet on his string. She hung there, limp, as she waited for him to make up his mind. What would he do with her?
as she looked at the string she realized it symbolized her life. it was worn and battered but still strong enough to secure the things it needed too, to hold them in place to prevent them from falling to pieces
..it was a good run,but his string of good luck had not run out…yet..
He dangled the string over the porch, grinning with delight each time the cat’s paw appeared on the edge. If its claw caught in the threads, he’d gently remove it and wait for it to try again. “I think I need to tell Grandma you’re down there.”
The tie that bins us,an single thread possess an infinite amount of possibility. Anything you can imagine it can create this is the making of a world of it’s own and yet with a single tug it becomes nothing more than a memory.
The spider was scrambling along the ground, trying to get untied from the string that entangled him. With every few inches he was yanked back by the boy. The spider was angry, and wanted nothing more than to jump on the boys face and eat his eyeballs.
string is fun. string is amazing. string can take you places you never thought you could go. it is long, can be short, any color, any sort. String is what the world depends on. string is life. or is life string? the strings of life connect to form one massive universe.
I fished around in my pocket, withdrawing a few crumpled one-dollar bills, a gum wrapper, and a bit of lint. I sighed, going into my other pocket and coming up empty, save for a small length of string.
She pulls upon the string, hoping to lengthen her lovers life. The fates laugh as she tugs harder upon it. Maybe next time the fates will care but for now they’re just as cold as they always have been.
I don’t understand because I just go this word last time I did this one word thing. String…. A kite is flying through the air and the wind is carrying it far away except then it falls because kites never work like they do in the movies or commercials. Good metaphors, though.
String spindles, still yet with the combined of efforts of the fall; manage to rip independent bodies. Or shall i say bodices. Bonded bodice hanging from your frame
I was thinking of life as a string. Really we all have our own strings in life. They uravel and interwein in eachother. Were all conected into a big picture. But in the end we’re all just string.
he strings you along, the pet of his dreams that nevertheless failed to give the fantastical painting the sheen of beauty. beauty is human and humans are ideas and ideas are strung together by the golden teeth of dogs.
It was like all the strings inside him broke. Unraveled. There was nothing else to do. Nothing else to hide. Nothing else to say. How it happened…. It just did. Life was doing him, instead of the other way around. We need to live. We are in control. Not anyone else.
string knitted into a blanket that
my mom dropped off that
led me to holding it which led you
to spill it which led me to meet you <3
long, soft to touch, strong, can be used for almost anything. Can be used to tie a shoe, or something bigger like a dog. It can be a helpful reminder on a finger, or a way to hold something back.
“string me along like a beautiful love song”
the string of pearls scattered to the floor – grandmother’s pearls, gone, rolled beneath the feet of the dancers, pulsating to the beat in the dark club.
“How long is a piece of string?”
“What?” I replied, rolling over to face the setting sun.
“Isn’t it like…a saying, or something? ‘How long is a piece of string?'”
“Well, that’s stupid,” I said. “Why not just say, ‘How big is a piece of bread?”
tying the string together, tying the knot, linking us together as one. hoping that each day will be as great as this one was. i want to spend the entirety of my life together with you.
when you tie a string around your finger to remember something important. what would happen if people did this for memories? you wouldn’t have enough fingers for all the string you would be keeping around.
So there was this string, and nobody knew where it led. Everyone in the town knew it was there, buried under them, but nobody acknowledged it–their grandparents and ancestors had let it be, so they did the same. But there it remained, leading to some other town, connecting all humanity–but they never really knew.
she ties me to the rising tied, strung up like a little puppet, but now I’ve cut myself from her grasp… that vampire misses me she wishes me, all over her dreams wants me and aches for me, to be back where i was. but that wont happen, i have graduated from her school of love torture. She wants what exist only in the past.
The string theory
String Cheese
A piece of string
String on a rope
Stringy spaghetti
Stringy hair
she ties me to the rising tied, strung up like a little puppet, but now I’ve cut myself from her grasp… that vampire misses me.
A single string, attatched to a single rope, from a single tile, in an empty ceiling. A picture, attatched to that string, with a single face on it, smiling.
there is a lot of string in this world. string connects people. string can connect things. if you tie it, it makes a connection. people should be more like strings, because connections in life are very important.
String theory is the word that comes to mind. I know Stephen Hawking has written about it but it comes into question a lot as to whether or not it is true or not as scientists dismiss any theories that don’t support it, which I think sucks.
How long is a piece of string?
my grandfather used to say,
i used to giggle at these words,
he said them every day.
How long is a piece of string anyway?
The world is on a string… twirling and spinning at the end the way a dead man hangs from the gallows. This isn’t the place you imagined. This isn’t the home you dreamed of. This just is. It’s nothing more, nor nothing less than everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you’ve ever needed.
it was an old shirt
when i pulled the string
the pink unfurled
leaving nothing
and I wasn’t surprised
A string is thin and can tie things together or can be used to delineate space. It is simple – rope maybe, or a command in computer science. It is infinite in its ability to go on and on and on length-wise, like a horizon