And though I tried and I tired and I tired to redeem myself my nerves were strung out, I was playing cello string sounds on the edges of my brain, my soul the bow that warped the sounds out and I was making music from my stress and my hurt and then my strung out nerves were beautiful.
Strung up is the way I feel sometimes when I am up late at night and cannot sleep. Which is right now. The reason behind this of course, is pain in my left shoulder, arm and neck. What the heck is going on, I wonder. Argh.
Is argh a word? Naw, don’t think so. But it fits here, and it means, forget it, who cares, just browse the web and be entertained and soon I will be falling asleep with my laptop on my lap.
I remember that ball of yarn. It sat on the table in front of me. I wondered, if I were smaller, would it hold my weight till I climbed up to the top. Its vibrant threads offered many places for support.
strung along. strung a necklace. It’s like stringing a pearl necklace “strung along” means copying, or following after, like the beads in that necklace…they’re all the same. And isn’t that what everyone does in this world today? Just copy everyone else? That’s what it feels like almost, like we lost originality.
strung out on dope? Need a fix? have i got the thing for you… it’s new and improved… safe and fda regulated… we call it THE PLACEBO… how does it work you ask? Thats the most ingenious thing about it you make it work.
I was walking down the road one day and was watching a lady who strung her clothes out on a line. She walked up to me and was asking me for advice. She said her sister was strung out on drugs and she wanted to help her, but she didn’t know what to do. She said she loved her family but had no idea how to help her sister.
I knew a guy that was strung out on drugs. He was so strung out he could never realize what he was doing. He always did things wrong and was never happy with his life. He never knew what was going on. He left his wife. Sold all of their furniture for drugs. He hated the fact that he could never help out.
today’s word is strung. and the only reason I’m writing about it is because i told myself i was going to write more often. this has nothing relative to the word strung. help!
The world is so strung out. People move and DO things, but it never amounts to more than a few paces forward. We shouldn’t have to be so strung out since ultimately, we don’t do anything anyways.
String out this violin, darling, let me hear it sing.
Let my mother get her fix and come home with her stretched wits.
Strung out on chemicals, never really for me, but let’s watch my friends, my family, my loved ones stretch their wits until they burst and have no more, until they’re hollow and empty without their soul.
Then bring them back, all of them, to me…with the beautiful violin in the corner, you see?
I’m all strung out now on the medicine, furthered more by the weed. This television show I’m watching feels like an invention of ancient civilizations. It glows.
the man was strung out on the field his dreams of plating the game forever coming to a sharp and depressing stop as he could feel in his heart that he would never pla
The cat went to the park the other night. He was sipping on his daily Coke Zero, when he noticed a rather good-looking dog to his left. The cat sipped some more, and then made his move. “Meow” the cat said, “Woof”, the dog responded.
he was strung out and frightened to go home, knowing what his family would say about him. His mother no doubt would scream once his younger brother made a big deal of it. His choices were limited
Stung is between two things holding them together like two pieces of cloth
Stung is two lines, or perhaps just on that is strung between two phone poles it connects people
like a phone line
it connects
Strung is an interesting word that I did not expect for this, I immediately thought of a bag of grain being sewn shut at one end. Perhaps this is not the idea of stream of consciousness that everyone has in mind. Should it not be somewhat ore…. free. And not strung to the boundaries that I have to write for an assignment or a time limit. I mean the word would have been sufficient enough. However, it might just be me…. whenever I let my mind run free I get into rants that aren’t always understandable. And now I think I sound like someone who needs a therapist…. just spewing my worries and insecurities all of the wall of black and white…. wow, I wrote a lot longer than 60 seconds……
strung along
like a little
puppy dog
you lied to
you lead me
to an alleyway
with an ending
that was
dead
and you told
me it was
paradise
but now i know
that leashes
will forever
have me
strung to
you via my
unwilling heart.
Word by word, she found herself strung. The little lies folding neatly into a small corner of her pocket, taking up almost no space. It was as if they were non-existent. Unfold them all, and she’d find herself with a neat little fictitious story that she was forced to believe because the other option…well, no one likes a sad ending.
The cards were strung across the rooms like a receiving line at a wedding that went on past the years you could remember and into the dark hollows of forgetfulness.
She strung the beads on one by one, her teeth aching from cutting the string with them. Her fingers were aching from hours of spinning the cheap string on which the wooden beads hung. No money to pat for paint or shiner, she let them hang limp, and then she sat in the street and begged for some money.
‘A trade?’ she asked.
‘Who would want that?’
And then he lead her away. Because in the end, the beads weren’t enough.
Being high strung can lead to great things. Sometimes, my best inspirations and work come from it. But when it gets to much, it’s best to cut the strings and let myself relax.
The itching, the need, the distress I have without it. I need it, I can’t get enough of it, just one more fix, once more and I’ll never do it again. I have to leave this stuff behind me, but it’s got me held tight in it’s grasp. There must be a word for this, oh yeah, strung out…
it has a string on it and it rolls down, unwinding the string from itself and when it reaches the bottom or the end of the string, it rolls back up, as it is simply a yoyo, a childs toy that has been around for years and years. actually, the yoyo was originally a weapon used by people that i cant remember. im all strung out now because i cant remember it. hmm it is so strange how that happens, isnt it? i can only imagine that strung is my word for a reason.
Looking down at all the people below me at the gallows I am mildly astonished by the number of people attending my hanging. They happen every Friday the 13th, never before have I witnessed a turn out like this, I wonder what makes me so special.
He strung the chords of his guitar. From every stroke a different meoldy was created. He loved music, he lived by it. His life was shaped by all kinds of notes. His every breath was filled with notes. There was no way he could live separetly from her. Music was his life and love.
tense and sharp like the strings were pulled too tight. badly out of tune and madly – full of fight. rings around fingers around necks. screaming lyrics of a lust that hasn’t happened yet. out and up and turned around… where yesterdays happen tomorrow and the sky lives underground.
She was all strung up with thoughts that weren’t even hers, just words placed into her head from others that had invaded on her privacy over the years. It was a waste of space, space she didn’t even have to begin with. She had little to her own, and even now, these weren’t even hers to call her own.
And though I tried and I tired and I tired to redeem myself my nerves were strung out, I was playing cello string sounds on the edges of my brain, my soul the bow that warped the sounds out and I was making music from my stress and my hurt and then my strung out nerves were beautiful.
Strung up is the way I feel sometimes when I am up late at night and cannot sleep. Which is right now. The reason behind this of course, is pain in my left shoulder, arm and neck. What the heck is going on, I wonder. Argh.
Is argh a word? Naw, don’t think so. But it fits here, and it means, forget it, who cares, just browse the web and be entertained and soon I will be falling asleep with my laptop on my lap.
I remember that ball of yarn. It sat on the table in front of me. I wondered, if I were smaller, would it hold my weight till I climbed up to the top. Its vibrant threads offered many places for support.
strung along. strung a necklace. It’s like stringing a pearl necklace “strung along” means copying, or following after, like the beads in that necklace…they’re all the same. And isn’t that what everyone does in this world today? Just copy everyone else? That’s what it feels like almost, like we lost originality.
strung out on dope? Need a fix? have i got the thing for you… it’s new and improved… safe and fda regulated… we call it THE PLACEBO… how does it work you ask? Thats the most ingenious thing about it you make it work.
I was walking down the road one day and was watching a lady who strung her clothes out on a line. She walked up to me and was asking me for advice. She said her sister was strung out on drugs and she wanted to help her, but she didn’t know what to do. She said she loved her family but had no idea how to help her sister.
tonight i’m strung out on happiness. its been a while since i’ve felt this unattached, yet attached at the same time. i feel free. strung out.
High strung. Now. Strings are strung, tight on the line. Bow the strings, produce notes and music and melody and harmony. Create art.
I knew a guy that was strung out on drugs. He was so strung out he could never realize what he was doing. He always did things wrong and was never happy with his life. He never knew what was going on. He left his wife. Sold all of their furniture for drugs. He hated the fact that he could never help out.
today’s word is strung. and the only reason I’m writing about it is because i told myself i was going to write more often. this has nothing relative to the word strung. help!
There were folks strung out on the line. That’s where he wanted them to be. Hung out there with no ideas about real things.
a man. how strung he is. it’s a personal worry for them and women think about it often, too. strung: how manly a man is. the way we judge men.
The world is so strung out. People move and DO things, but it never amounts to more than a few paces forward. We shouldn’t have to be so strung out since ultimately, we don’t do anything anyways.
bones and teeth, strung like shiny white pearls on a string around her neck. she’d stroke them and think of ghosts and the things they leave behind.
String out this violin, darling, let me hear it sing.
Let my mother get her fix and come home with her stretched wits.
Strung out on chemicals, never really for me, but let’s watch my friends, my family, my loved ones stretch their wits until they burst and have no more, until they’re hollow and empty without their soul.
Then bring them back, all of them, to me…with the beautiful violin in the corner, you see?
I took the yarn out and strung it through the holes. My mother laughed as I made the heart shape around her and my father.
the pendant hung at the end of the chain, strung between two pearls of white, alone and unchanging, like the flower it imitated but could not become.
I’m all strung out now on the medicine, furthered more by the weed. This television show I’m watching feels like an invention of ancient civilizations. It glows.
We strung the Christmas lights in early December and have not taken them down since. Light is still needed. They create smiles.
I’m not strung up.
I’m interested in life, I like learning, I like good results, I trrryyy HARD.
But I’m not a strung up person. Don’t tell me I’m just a perfect little princess, I’m real and I stick my hands right into the dirt.
the man was strung out on the field his dreams of plating the game forever coming to a sharp and depressing stop as he could feel in his heart that he would never pla
The cat went to the park the other night. He was sipping on his daily Coke Zero, when he noticed a rather good-looking dog to his left. The cat sipped some more, and then made his move. “Meow” the cat said, “Woof”, the dog responded.
he was strung out and frightened to go home, knowing what his family would say about him. His mother no doubt would scream once his younger brother made a big deal of it. His choices were limited
strung hung sung a note that hurts the ears but is remembered for all your years.
strung hung sung a note that hurts the ears but is remembered for all your years.
Stung is between two things holding them together like two pieces of cloth
Stung is two lines, or perhaps just on that is strung between two phone poles it connects people
like a phone line
it connects
Strung is an interesting word that I did not expect for this, I immediately thought of a bag of grain being sewn shut at one end. Perhaps this is not the idea of stream of consciousness that everyone has in mind. Should it not be somewhat ore…. free. And not strung to the boundaries that I have to write for an assignment or a time limit. I mean the word would have been sufficient enough. However, it might just be me…. whenever I let my mind run free I get into rants that aren’t always understandable. And now I think I sound like someone who needs a therapist…. just spewing my worries and insecurities all of the wall of black and white…. wow, I wrote a lot longer than 60 seconds……
strung along
like a little
puppy dog
you lied to
you lead me
to an alleyway
with an ending
that was
dead
and you told
me it was
paradise
but now i know
that leashes
will forever
have me
strung to
you via my
unwilling heart.
Word by word, she found herself strung. The little lies folding neatly into a small corner of her pocket, taking up almost no space. It was as if they were non-existent. Unfold them all, and she’d find herself with a neat little fictitious story that she was forced to believe because the other option…well, no one likes a sad ending.
You strung me along for years. I had hope that you and me were meant to be. After everything, you finally came through.
Things I can think of that need to be strung are tennis rackets and guitars. People can be high strung or strung
The cards were strung across the rooms like a receiving line at a wedding that went on past the years you could remember and into the dark hollows of forgetfulness.
She strung the beads on one by one, her teeth aching from cutting the string with them. Her fingers were aching from hours of spinning the cheap string on which the wooden beads hung. No money to pat for paint or shiner, she let them hang limp, and then she sat in the street and begged for some money.
‘A trade?’ she asked.
‘Who would want that?’
And then he lead her away. Because in the end, the beads weren’t enough.
Being high strung can lead to great things. Sometimes, my best inspirations and work come from it. But when it gets to much, it’s best to cut the strings and let myself relax.
The itching, the need, the distress I have without it. I need it, I can’t get enough of it, just one more fix, once more and I’ll never do it again. I have to leave this stuff behind me, but it’s got me held tight in it’s grasp. There must be a word for this, oh yeah, strung out…
it has a string on it and it rolls down, unwinding the string from itself and when it reaches the bottom or the end of the string, it rolls back up, as it is simply a yoyo, a childs toy that has been around for years and years. actually, the yoyo was originally a weapon used by people that i cant remember. im all strung out now because i cant remember it. hmm it is so strange how that happens, isnt it? i can only imagine that strung is my word for a reason.
Looking down at all the people below me at the gallows I am mildly astonished by the number of people attending my hanging. They happen every Friday the 13th, never before have I witnessed a turn out like this, I wonder what makes me so special.
He strung the chords of his guitar. From every stroke a different meoldy was created. He loved music, he lived by it. His life was shaped by all kinds of notes. His every breath was filled with notes. There was no way he could live separetly from her. Music was his life and love.
tense and sharp like the strings were pulled too tight. badly out of tune and madly – full of fight. rings around fingers around necks. screaming lyrics of a lust that hasn’t happened yet. out and up and turned around… where yesterdays happen tomorrow and the sky lives underground.
She was all strung up with thoughts that weren’t even hers, just words placed into her head from others that had invaded on her privacy over the years. It was a waste of space, space she didn’t even have to begin with. She had little to her own, and even now, these weren’t even hers to call her own.