I was strung out to dry. She didn’t want me like I thought she did. She had just been using me to get closer to my friend. I felt so betrayed, but I was pretty happy when my friend turned her down for using me so shamelessly like that. I didn’t like her keeping me on a string like that.
She was high-strung at best, fidgety and wild. Her eyes were wide; we could see a frightened rim of white surrounding her iris.
“Well,” said Mr. Collins, patting her soundly on her sweaty flank. She jerked away. “She may not look like much, but on the track, she’s the fastest horse there.”
i was strung to a tree by my neck in the breeze i moved smackin out fleas with ease like a social disease. freeze is all you’ll hear when the coppers find i’m near.
Today, I was wearing my shoes just after coming out of a temple and suddenly I heard an old man saying: “Yes! That’s the right way, step on the place where your supposed to sit!”, it so happened that I was wearing my shoe putting my right leg on the bench, It strung-ed me what he was trying to say and when I looked towards him, he was actually telling that to his grandson, and it worked on me too!
I’m so strung out these days, I don’t know what I’m going to do about my life. I’m a senior and have to start thinking about my future, but I just can’t rap my head around the fact that I will be on my own….
And she was strung up by the simple strings of a pupateer. Trained to dance and smile and pretend she was okay. Strung up to do what everyone said and obey no matter what. It was sad really, what society trained her to do. What the saddest part was, was when she realized I was her.
All the beads were strung together to make a beautiful red and silver necklace, which Sylvain happily presented on Father’s Day. She ignored her older brother Terry’s derisive snort of laughter, but his words still bit deeply into the sweet six-year-old’s ears.
“It’s jewelry,” he scoffed. “Men don’t wear jewelry.”
But her father did wear the necklace. He wore it every single day for a month until it broke.
He was sitting there with his guitar, alone. It had already been restrung twice and he had no idea what to do next. That’s what was so odd about Daniel. He could fix things but had no idea how to use them. Playing the guitar was as much a mystery to him as the question of why humans exist.
I was so strung up on the idea of being with you that I couldn’t even see the reasons behind why it was such a fucking stupid idea and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not listening to anyone that tried to stop me. I love you. I don’t care. I’m strung.
strung bungalow duckhunter fence. a pearl-tipped rapier wanging the horse boots. guilty cloudcover darkening your day, rain’s on the way, strung up wet and flopping. remember the senses you experience in the pond mush, remember the quack of your shoes as you walk onto the kitchen tiles.
My friend Ashton gave me big bloopy Mickey Mouse themed Christmas lights for my 16th birthday. Ashton worse mismatched socks, one bright orange, another white with red stripes. Everyone commented on her cuteness. My then best friend Ashton was cute and remarkable in countless ways, so I don’t know why she had to do that sock thing. The Mickey Mouse Christmas lights, I mean, gasp, Disney?, was just a little too uncool for uncool-cool. Fifteen years later, this weekend, my mom salvaged them from a dusty box and strung them atop the bathroom mirror of my two-year old niece’s room at grandma’s.
i strung up the lights hesitantly. i knew she didn’t want to have Christmas this year. but she said to do so for my sake. i know how hard it must’ve been to have lost a father, a mentor, at such a young age. Christmas would never be the same.
After all the lights and decorations were hung up on display. we sat there in silence, just taking in each others presence and trying to find the words to say to move on from these recent events.
(this is copied and pasted after i signed up for this website)
plucked like a string
strung upon a guitar
that mighty breath
that moment in time
first strum
goes so slowly
that smile just a memory
a distant shadow
lurking in the crevasse
your drunken rivalry
with no one in particular
played out in music
which only you
and maybe should be only you
can hear.
i strung up the lights hesitantly. i knew she didn’t want to have Christmas this year. but she said to do so for my sake. i know how hard it must have been to have lost a father, a mentor, at such a young age. Christmas would never be the same.
After all the lights and decorations were hung up on display. we sat there in silence, just taking in each others presence and trying to find the words to say to move on from these recent events.
His children stood in a line like beads strung along a thread. His pride and joy, each one. He beamed with pride, knowing they would one day grow to be successful adults.
His children stood in a line like beads strung along a thread. His pride and joy, each one. He beamed with pride, knowing they would one day grow to be successful adults.
Strung together like a set of curious furious notes.
Chords strummed, no struck like keys at the piano.
Thoughts click, click, click in unison, in motion.
This poem that I know by rote, I sigh because I know,
Oh, so was not like the one, when at age five, I wrote.
The outdoor lights are strung out on the deck, zigging and zagging to and fro, filling the evening air with twinkling ambiance. Now if only the mosquitos and mayflies would disappear, we could enjoy the warm, quiet evening.
you are my drug and i am constantly strung up on you, ecstasy and cocaine and alcohol all at once (mine mine all mine) the heat and the fever and dying embers of an ending high oh my god just love me back damnit
I’m strung out on the words you used say to me. The words that once soothed my soul, are now crashing over me with an intensity I cannot stop, killing me, slowly. I miss your words, I miss your everything. You and me, we make sense but now nothing seems to fit.
Christmas lights strung from the tree,
It isn’t the same anymore.
You aren’t here to sit in your chair,
to laugh at dumb cartoons us kids loved.
You aren’t here anymore,
and soon it will won’t feel like Christmas anymore.
I will soon wake from this dream.
The only place where I can see you.
strung reminds me of lights, like you string lights around a camper when you are camping. or when you have a party.
it reminds me of lights, to illuminate an area.
i’m strung out on words i cant explain, without you here im lost. lost for words for thoughts everything im completely blank without out. im strung out on your words your words that fed me for so long yet now seem to kill me so slowly yet so surely. slowly the words you once said to me are killing me
The balloons were strung, in no particular order, along the side of the house. Clara stepped into the view frame of everyone waiting for her at the party.
“Surprise!” they called out.
She looked at them all, blinking. Tears suddenly filled her eyes.
On a banner above her head, were the words: Our Clara Beat Cancer.
a life devoid of meaning, no hope lingers in the eyes that are clouded and unseeing. no logic resides behind those eyes, no feeling, no reason, just the need for the next fix, thats all the strung out desire
I’ve been strung along this path for so long. Working my days for hours on end, trying to make ends meet. Trying to make anything meet. Trying to make meat. I am a butcher. I serve meat to the people and meet people through meat. I wish I could make the people I meet into meat and serve them to themselves.
by a bee the size of a UFO and no one in New York city the poison shot from a three mile radius. Accept for John who was born with immunity to the venom and would become the world’s savior and only hope for a peaceful future.
strung out. stringing someone along. hanging. hanging by a moment. hanging by a thread. hangman’s noose. just hanging. strung up like nobody’s business. strung out. strung out on lies. lies are like drugs. they leave you hanging high and dry. waving in the wind.
She felt the weight of their eyes on her as she stepped on stage. As part of her pre-performance ritual, she tuned her violin in front of the audience, calibrating the horsehair to her exact needs, hoping the instrument she strung herself wouldn’t fail her this time.
My heart is but a knot
tightly fastened–an afterthought.
Strong Willed,
memories unfilled–
A lonely island in the middle of the sea.
JO
I was strung out to dry. She didn’t want me like I thought she did. She had just been using me to get closer to my friend. I felt so betrayed, but I was pretty happy when my friend turned her down for using me so shamelessly like that. I didn’t like her keeping me on a string like that.
She was high-strung at best, fidgety and wild. Her eyes were wide; we could see a frightened rim of white surrounding her iris.
“Well,” said Mr. Collins, patting her soundly on her sweaty flank. She jerked away. “She may not look like much, but on the track, she’s the fastest horse there.”
We didn’t doubt it.
It was a sense of being. To be strung. Not drawn and quartered, but still highly strung with tension.
The half mark makes for light.
The half moon makes for dark.
Sides to this coin are flipped and flipped.
Oriented by gravity, I watch it spin. Determine rotation then snap decision.
It is a hunch, perhaps something of…
How could she? I felt like a piece of string, slowly unravelling.
i was strung to a tree by my neck in the breeze i moved smackin out fleas with ease like a social disease. freeze is all you’ll hear when the coppers find i’m near.
Today, I was wearing my shoes just after coming out of a temple and suddenly I heard an old man saying: “Yes! That’s the right way, step on the place where your supposed to sit!”, it so happened that I was wearing my shoe putting my right leg on the bench, It strung-ed me what he was trying to say and when I looked towards him, he was actually telling that to his grandson, and it worked on me too!
You Cut out her heart
Put it on a string
She was your puppet
From the very beginning
You could’ve been nicer
But you were always drunk
Your numb mind couldn’t decipher
That she’d been sunk
You were too conceited
To see through the facade
So her,you treated ,
As if she could withstand all
You knew it was wrong
That She deserved better
But that didnt stop you
From breaking her forever
Yeah you strung her along
Not looking at the cracks
On her abused heart
And all over that mask
You thought she’d let you go
But she holds on to that string
Newsflash:
She’s not as strong as you’d think
I’m so strung out these days, I don’t know what I’m going to do about my life. I’m a senior and have to start thinking about my future, but I just can’t rap my head around the fact that I will be on my own….
And she was strung up by the simple strings of a pupateer. Trained to dance and smile and pretend she was okay. Strung up to do what everyone said and obey no matter what. It was sad really, what society trained her to do. What the saddest part was, was when she realized I was her.
All the beads were strung together to make a beautiful red and silver necklace, which Sylvain happily presented on Father’s Day. She ignored her older brother Terry’s derisive snort of laughter, but his words still bit deeply into the sweet six-year-old’s ears.
“It’s jewelry,” he scoffed. “Men don’t wear jewelry.”
But her father did wear the necklace. He wore it every single day for a month until it broke.
He was sitting there with his guitar, alone. It had already been restrung twice and he had no idea what to do next. That’s what was so odd about Daniel. He could fix things but had no idea how to use them. Playing the guitar was as much a mystery to him as the question of why humans exist.
I was so strung up on the idea of being with you that I couldn’t even see the reasons behind why it was such a fucking stupid idea and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not listening to anyone that tried to stop me. I love you. I don’t care. I’m strung.
strung bungalow duckhunter fence. a pearl-tipped rapier wanging the horse boots. guilty cloudcover darkening your day, rain’s on the way, strung up wet and flopping. remember the senses you experience in the pond mush, remember the quack of your shoes as you walk onto the kitchen tiles.
oh no what is it
strung strang strange
yeah strange
all is strange is this place, world anywhere
yeah i’m a strange
My friend Ashton gave me big bloopy Mickey Mouse themed Christmas lights for my 16th birthday. Ashton worse mismatched socks, one bright orange, another white with red stripes. Everyone commented on her cuteness. My then best friend Ashton was cute and remarkable in countless ways, so I don’t know why she had to do that sock thing. The Mickey Mouse Christmas lights, I mean, gasp, Disney?, was just a little too uncool for uncool-cool. Fifteen years later, this weekend, my mom salvaged them from a dusty box and strung them atop the bathroom mirror of my two-year old niece’s room at grandma’s.
i strung up the lights hesitantly. i knew she didn’t want to have Christmas this year. but she said to do so for my sake. i know how hard it must’ve been to have lost a father, a mentor, at such a young age. Christmas would never be the same.
After all the lights and decorations were hung up on display. we sat there in silence, just taking in each others presence and trying to find the words to say to move on from these recent events.
(this is copied and pasted after i signed up for this website)
Strung out, out of bounds
Out of wack
Shivering up your spine
Still electric
but still and stone
plucked like a string
strung upon a guitar
that mighty breath
that moment in time
first strum
goes so slowly
that smile just a memory
a distant shadow
lurking in the crevasse
your drunken rivalry
with no one in particular
played out in music
which only you
and maybe should be only you
can hear.
here i am strung up on her
this has to stop
i am not a puppet
can I ever be free
call the nurse i’m strung up on a noose.
i strung up the lights hesitantly. i knew she didn’t want to have Christmas this year. but she said to do so for my sake. i know how hard it must have been to have lost a father, a mentor, at such a young age. Christmas would never be the same.
After all the lights and decorations were hung up on display. we sat there in silence, just taking in each others presence and trying to find the words to say to move on from these recent events.
His children stood in a line like beads strung along a thread. His pride and joy, each one. He beamed with pride, knowing they would one day grow to be successful adults.
His children stood in a line like beads strung along a thread. His pride and joy, each one. He beamed with pride, knowing they would one day grow to be successful adults.
Strung together like a set of curious furious notes.
Chords strummed, no struck like keys at the piano.
Thoughts click, click, click in unison, in motion.
This poem that I know by rote, I sigh because I know,
Oh, so was not like the one, when at age five, I wrote.
The outdoor lights are strung out on the deck, zigging and zagging to and fro, filling the evening air with twinkling ambiance. Now if only the mosquitos and mayflies would disappear, we could enjoy the warm, quiet evening.
you are my drug and i am constantly strung up on you, ecstasy and cocaine and alcohol all at once (mine mine all mine) the heat and the fever and dying embers of an ending high oh my god just love me back damnit
I’m strung out on the words you used say to me. The words that once soothed my soul, are now crashing over me with an intensity I cannot stop, killing me, slowly. I miss your words, I miss your everything. You and me, we make sense but now nothing seems to fit.
Christmas lights strung from the tree,
It isn’t the same anymore.
You aren’t here to sit in your chair,
to laugh at dumb cartoons us kids loved.
You aren’t here anymore,
and soon it will won’t feel like Christmas anymore.
I will soon wake from this dream.
The only place where I can see you.
strung reminds me of lights, like you string lights around a camper when you are camping. or when you have a party.
it reminds me of lights, to illuminate an area.
i’m strung out on words i cant explain, without you here im lost. lost for words for thoughts everything im completely blank without out. im strung out on your words your words that fed me for so long yet now seem to kill me so slowly yet so surely. slowly the words you once said to me are killing me
To be strung out can mean many things,…. Hahaha. OMGoodness let me write a book on that one.
The balloons were strung, in no particular order, along the side of the house. Clara stepped into the view frame of everyone waiting for her at the party.
“Surprise!” they called out.
She looked at them all, blinking. Tears suddenly filled her eyes.
On a banner above her head, were the words: Our Clara Beat Cancer.
a life devoid of meaning, no hope lingers in the eyes that are clouded and unseeing. no logic resides behind those eyes, no feeling, no reason, just the need for the next fix, thats all the strung out desire
I’ve been strung along this path for so long. Working my days for hours on end, trying to make ends meet. Trying to make anything meet. Trying to make meat. I am a butcher. I serve meat to the people and meet people through meat. I wish I could make the people I meet into meat and serve them to themselves.
srung is to hang something or it is when you thread a series of objects on a string. Also it could mean that you are exhausted.
by a bee the size of a UFO and no one in New York city the poison shot from a three mile radius. Accept for John who was born with immunity to the venom and would become the world’s savior and only hope for a peaceful future.
strung
across my room
are christmas lights
and little paper girls
hand in hand in hand in hand
dancing across my white ceiling
in a soft shaped arc
strung
across my room
are christmas lights
and little paper girls
hand in hand in hand in hand
dancing across my white ceiling
in a soft shaped arc
strung out. stringing someone along. hanging. hanging by a moment. hanging by a thread. hangman’s noose. just hanging. strung up like nobody’s business. strung out. strung out on lies. lies are like drugs. they leave you hanging high and dry. waving in the wind.
She felt the weight of their eyes on her as she stepped on stage. As part of her pre-performance ritual, she tuned her violin in front of the audience, calibrating the horsehair to her exact needs, hoping the instrument she strung herself wouldn’t fail her this time.