There was this poster right at the entrance of the room and the words : “Strung out from all this feelings” written with thick bold letters. Coming back to what they have lived it all made sense now.
I’m strung out on a limb here,
trying to decide which way to go,
but I haven’t much time…
To decide.
My descision is life or death
To trade the life of the one I love…
For what?
NO
I will find another way.
There must be another way…
Think think think
But the limb is cracking
I’m falling
falling
falling
falling…
Through black open space,
Stars wiz by me
Where am I?
What is happening?
There is a sphere of blue below me…
Oh I’m heading towards it…
I’m about to crash
trees
water
dirt
grass
stop!
I open my eyes.
The trees outside my window pass by at 60 miles per hour.
I’m on my way into town.
Just another day dream my brain has decided to thrust upon me.
I close me eyes and lose myself again…
This time,
It’s a happy day dream. :)
Strung from the highest limb in the tree, taunting me, was her locket. A single pearl shimmered in the sun atop the golden heart, making me break down and remember the day i gave it to her.
I strung the lights across my room. I like these lights. I flip the switch and the lights flicker on. It’s magnificent. The shadows dance on the walls.
one of the earliest observations tsukitachi makes when it comes to hirato is that despite first impressions, he is really quite high-strung. always alert and subtly stiff both in body and in spirit as if watching out for something. it’s not like tsukitachi to ponder on these things and he finds it both strange and fascinating how these things seem to linger when so few other things do. maybe it’s because he finds hirato both interesting and pretty, not unlike some kind of previously unknown jewel.
He cut the piece of string at the exact length he wanted it. He began grabbing different beads and strung them onto the thread, watching them slide down, forming patterns. After finishing one, he knotted it and hung it up. He did it several times before he filled the walls with the beaded strings.
High in the top of the oak, there was a single orb suspended in satin. It was tied, strung around a fragile limb, as if to provide a beacon to some lost soul out in the wilderness. I didn’t know what to make of it. Never had I seen such a brilliant light source in the darkness, for the moon had long since vanished from the heavens, and the stars had blinked out.
The banjo was strung with slim, twine-like string, tied to the top of the uppermost branch of the tallest tree. Rosie stood back and admired her work.
Well done, she thought to herself.
A banjo strung to the top of a tree strung with twine. Random, but clever.
Beautiful, but perfect.
Distant and bright, she’s a world without eyes, born of the dawn, sufferer of the night. He’s vicious and beautiful and the wind glints off the edges of his smile like a razor blade. What happened to the sun, strung up in the sky? Hanging captive, lobotomized, screaming to be let out. To stop shining. When everybody expects you to shine, people don’t forget exactly what it means to be light.
Strung, it’s an odd word. I think a lot of words, when you just look at them on their own, away from any other words, not part of their own sentence, can be weird, strange, odd-sounding. Strung. It sounds like someone hit a bell with a piece of pasta.
Held closely but not close enough. Enough to keep me waiting at the door everyday searching for your fullest love but still receiving half of what you feel. Still waiting, patiently, but solemnly.
strung out people with sunken eyes, held up in a heroin den. fiending for more, wishing they could stop. desperate, lost, scared, and craving for the demon that has taken everything away from them while simultaneiously giving them life.
As she repeatedly strung in order – popcorn, cranberry, popcorn, cranberry – she found herself replaying Christmases past in her mind. Memories happy and sad replayed like a highlights reel until the garland was finished and securely wrapped around the tree.
I was strung-out. A week of no sleep, too many cigarettes, too many cups of coffee and a pit of building anxiety buried deep in my stomach made me unable to sit still or think clearly.
She strung them along, all of the men she took an interest in. She wrapped them up in her little finger with ease, with just a charming little laugh and a wink, a toss of her glamorous hair. She barely had to try and they were there, always there, ready to serve, help, comfort, love. She had all she wanted and didn’t bother to set them free even when she wasn’t using them.
He was at rock bottom, and it didn’t even matter. They’d warned him this day would come. All of the red flags and cautionary signs had been waved and he had ignored them. The craving was the most important thing.
There was this poster right at the entrance of the room and the words : “Strung out from all this feelings” written with thick bold letters. Coming back to what they have lived it all made sense now.
I’m strung out on a limb here,
trying to decide which way to go,
but I haven’t much time…
To decide.
My descision is life or death
To trade the life of the one I love…
For what?
NO
I will find another way.
There must be another way…
Think think think
But the limb is cracking
I’m falling
falling
falling
falling…
Through black open space,
Stars wiz by me
Where am I?
What is happening?
There is a sphere of blue below me…
Oh I’m heading towards it…
I’m about to crash
trees
water
dirt
grass
stop!
I open my eyes.
The trees outside my window pass by at 60 miles per hour.
I’m on my way into town.
Just another day dream my brain has decided to thrust upon me.
I close me eyes and lose myself again…
This time,
It’s a happy day dream. :)
Strung from the highest limb in the tree, taunting me, was her locket. A single pearl shimmered in the sun atop the golden heart, making me break down and remember the day i gave it to her.
I strung the lights across my room. I like these lights. I flip the switch and the lights flicker on. It’s magnificent. The shadows dance on the walls.
gabriel appeared to me one day,
glowing and pristine;
but noticed something missing.
where’s your special horn, i asked,
and don’t you guys have harps?
his grin was jagged when he answered
i never had one, little worm,
though if i did,
i’d have wrung mary’s neck with it.
They say it’s mean to string him along, to make him believe he has a chance. But she says he had one–and he lost it.
one of the earliest observations tsukitachi makes when it comes to hirato is that despite first impressions, he is really quite high-strung. always alert and subtly stiff both in body and in spirit as if watching out for something. it’s not like tsukitachi to ponder on these things and he finds it both strange and fascinating how these things seem to linger when so few other things do. maybe it’s because he finds hirato both interesting and pretty, not unlike some kind of previously unknown jewel.
He cut the piece of string at the exact length he wanted it. He began grabbing different beads and strung them onto the thread, watching them slide down, forming patterns. After finishing one, he knotted it and hung it up. He did it several times before he filled the walls with the beaded strings.
Strung out on
Boredom
Watered down
enthusiasm
on the rocks
You said you can’t
remember the last time
you were happy
Life’s a joke
and if you laugh hard enough,
maybe the punchline
will save us all
High in the top of the oak, there was a single orb suspended in satin. It was tied, strung around a fragile limb, as if to provide a beacon to some lost soul out in the wilderness. I didn’t know what to make of it. Never had I seen such a brilliant light source in the darkness, for the moon had long since vanished from the heavens, and the stars had blinked out.
The banjo was strung with slim, twine-like string, tied to the top of the uppermost branch of the tallest tree. Rosie stood back and admired her work.
Well done, she thought to herself.
A banjo strung to the top of a tree strung with twine. Random, but clever.
Beautiful, but perfect.
Distant and bright, she’s a world without eyes, born of the dawn, sufferer of the night. He’s vicious and beautiful and the wind glints off the edges of his smile like a razor blade. What happened to the sun, strung up in the sky? Hanging captive, lobotomized, screaming to be let out. To stop shining. When everybody expects you to shine, people don’t forget exactly what it means to be light.
Strung, it’s an odd word. I think a lot of words, when you just look at them on their own, away from any other words, not part of their own sentence, can be weird, strange, odd-sounding. Strung. It sounds like someone hit a bell with a piece of pasta.
Held closely but not close enough. Enough to keep me waiting at the door everyday searching for your fullest love but still receiving half of what you feel. Still waiting, patiently, but solemnly.
i was strung like a pepper on a hot summer day. it was hot and i did not like it.
strung out people with sunken eyes, held up in a heroin den. fiending for more, wishing they could stop. desperate, lost, scared, and craving for the demon that has taken everything away from them while simultaneiously giving them life.
As she repeatedly strung in order – popcorn, cranberry, popcorn, cranberry – she found herself replaying Christmases past in her mind. Memories happy and sad replayed like a highlights reel until the garland was finished and securely wrapped around the tree.
I was strung-out. A week of no sleep, too many cigarettes, too many cups of coffee and a pit of building anxiety buried deep in my stomach made me unable to sit still or think clearly.
She strung them along, all of the men she took an interest in. She wrapped them up in her little finger with ease, with just a charming little laugh and a wink, a toss of her glamorous hair. She barely had to try and they were there, always there, ready to serve, help, comfort, love. She had all she wanted and didn’t bother to set them free even when she wasn’t using them.
every single chord yoochun plays on the piano, jaejoong feels like it’s striking through his heart.
He was at rock bottom, and it didn’t even matter. They’d warned him this day would come. All of the red flags and cautionary signs had been waved and he had ignored them. The craving was the most important thing.
I have no idea what this means…strung. Well maybe it means when you strum a guitar, like the past tense of that I have no idea. thats probably wrong.