Bridger had to swerve to avoid running into the accident in front of him. Dammit he swore. Going too fast again, and there were cops all over the place. An announcement told him that his social security account would be debited for the speeding fine, and he swore again. What the hell. He was trying to find Lucas, who could be anywhere by now, but he really needed to see this through.
I swore as I swerved out of the way – wait for a second, because a horse was barreling towards me? I paused, pulled to the side and looked around. My windows were sprayed with dust and there was a man blinking at me in really old-fashioned clothes.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
“What’s the year?” I cut in breathlessly.
Swerve to where you want to be. Don’t take the direct path as that has no adventure to it. Be daring, be bold. Take the path that scares you instead of always sticking to the straight and narrow. You never know where a bit of deviation will take you when you are least expecting it. Swerve right, swerve right…just don’t ever let yourself feel stuck in a situation.
I was speeding around the corner and had to swerve hard to the left to avoid the cat in the middle of the road…it appeared to be injured as nothing but its’ tail moved. I stopped
Hands at ten and two. Ignition on, handbrake off. Move into first gear then accelerate, now drive.
2:03 am. 27/11/16. Late night or early morning but the sounds are asleep, my head is quiet. There are no other cars on this quiet road, just the flicker of cat’s eyes and fireflies in the road, like willow the wisps; guiding me, leading me astray. Flashes from streetlights rush past, and I see her.
Flash.
Her laid in bed, hands in mine, legs entwined.
Flash.
Her across the table, smiling down at her food.
Flash.
Her reading with steaming tea in hand, feet up on a chair.
Flash.
Her-
Flash.
-screaming.
Flash.
Black.
–
See the drop up ahead. Accelerate. Accelerate. Pull the steering wheel.
Swerve. That’s what I should’ve have done. I should’ve hit the turtle and moved on. Instead, I swerved, and now I am stranded in the ditch, in the middle of nowhere with no cell service and no idea where I am.
He swerved the car and drove like a maniac. The time was ticking and he was constantly worried whether he will be able to make it or not.His thoughts swerved between present and past as he drove the car in the mad traffic. It started drizzling and suddenly turned into torrents. The traffic cleared a bit with two wheeler keeping off the road, but he could hardly see and he had to drive carefully. Tears came gushing down his cheeks like the rain outside.
It’s the name of a sugar substitute. The word we use to describe avoiding somebody, but when Rita swerved, when I saw her grip the wheel and scream, “Hold on!”, those are the only things I could remember. That, and the horrifying blue blur of the cars in front of us as we pulled off to the side. It had only been in instant, but we all panted like we’d run a marathon.
I ran down the hallway as fast as I could. My legs were burning and lungs heaving but I couldn’t stop now. I didn’t see them till it was too late. Throwing myself to the side, I swerved away with all my strength, missing the enemy’s sword by a hair.
his body processes what’s going on before his brain does. rising up of nowhere in front of him is the back of a truck, and his eyes widen in shock. his hands move by themselves as he yanks the steering wheel with force; muscle memory, and he is almost too afraid to look when his car veers wildly to the right and into the trees the second before he could crash.
She felt the car hum beneath her and the power in her hand scared her. She gripped the wheel tighter. She glanced over at her mom in the passenger’s seat.
“Eyes on the road, Lily.”
Eyes on the road. Feet on the brakes. Hands on the wheel. Keep your head on straight and don’t freak out.
swerving is an act i am too familiar with these unpredictable days. i have slight swerves to learn about creating online products. i have experience different types of swerves. this swerves include accidental, slight, sudden, and spontaneous types of veering.
swerving is a word i m too familiar with these crazy days. i swerve this way only to be swerved that way with producing my online products and growing my business. i need to stay focus.
Moving left to right, that’s what swerving is. It’s interesting because life should be like that. What’s better is when you get to live and tell the story. It’s fun being able to tell everyone about the whole spectrum of something. That’s what a swerve can do.
She looked out the window at the blue sky with white puffy clouds floating like marshmellows in hot chocolate. Her heart was full as she saw the car swerve around the tree coming up the driveway.
Swerve. Das ist ein Wort, mit dem ich so gar nichts anfangen kann, ohne erstmal ins Wörterbuch zu schauen. Mein Kopf ist daher leer. Swerve. Irgendwas Schwedisches? Irgendsoetwas wie Gähnen oder Pfurzen? Oder “schräg nach hinten”? Ich weiß es nicht und mir fallen natürlich auch keine super intelligenten Interprettaionen ein.
I drunkenly entered my car. This was the point of the night I had no recollection of. But I drove and drove, trying to keep myself within the lines. Apparently I swerved partially into the next lane and almost hit the police car that ended up pulling me over.
office party
glad-handing
social swerve
oh look! another hors d’oeuvre
look at that dress!
She’s got some nerve
keep an eye on the crowd
observe
never know what you might learn
he’s such a suck up
hope he gets what he deserves
There goes Bob chasing a skirt
what a perv!
driving the corporate curves
Swerve. It was the only work that crossed my mind as the child walked in front of my car. I never expected to hit the tree. I never expected to lose my wife. I never expected the nearly lose my own life. I got lucky…or so the doctors say. How lucky can I be if I’m all alone?
The other day I was sitting outside of the shrine bordering my apartment. There wasn’t quite enough time to drive somewhere and walk with enough sunlight to call it worth it, so this had to do for now. “Maybe my recent streak of bad luck is a lack of my generosity here,” I think, stating at a mostly empty donation box, but almost unconsciously my conscious speaks without restraint “…or maybe they just take the coins from here too.” I stopped in my tracks almost as fast as I turned around, seeing something small, long, green dangling in front of my face. Backing up a bit, I see it’s a little inchworm, dropping itself from the mostly bare cherry trees above. For a moment, I lift a finger, intending to let it free on some leaf in the neighboring garden, but a thought hits me, and I leave it be.
Taking a seat at the benches in the square, I watch a few wagtails gather at the ground below it – the worm is doomed, but I should just let nature take its course. They aren’t even pecking at the ground, or calling to each other, they’re just waiting. Fate takes a sharp turn, and he scene is broken by a strong guest of wind, which the inchworm rides all the way to the donation box in front of the shrine. With haste it crawls behind the bars and inside, whether to hide or the time being or make a cocoon for itself in the safety of a wooden box, I don’t know.
A silly superstition and nature contradict itself before my eyes – that little inchworm offered no coins, no offerings of any kind here, but the wind saved it none the less. I offer not a single coin but find myself penniless because of it? No, there is no pity, no force at work here, nothing – just luck, and you never know when it’s going to feed you to the wagtails.
Silly, too, is that this thought crosses my mind because of a worm. I could go home, but I choose to sit a little longer. Maybe a car will come speed around the corner and ruin the shrine and its donation box, I can’t rule out that possibility, nor deny myself the chance the see it.
Watch the cars spin and swerve on a wet country road. Their dance is deadly. Their faces are scratched and bleeding. Oil and rainbows. Oil and rainbows. Oil and rainbows! Their buck-toothed smiles go clickety-clack as they slow against the damp rails.
Stand at your window and sip your late night decaf as the build-up grows. The sirens whimper more than scream. Even the police cars are dragged into the choreography – they spin and they swerve and they dance.
Dead on the road
Ribs collapsed, eyes wide
Blank and endless
Tire’s embrace,
Touched so deep
Press of friction finally warming
A bit of skin
A bit of inside
I tried to side step
Going the right speed
I did, I was, I thought
But maybe I just clenched my teeth
Steady on the gas
No sounds from a stunned speed bump
Slowing, stopping,
Creaking rusty door
My eyes wide
Blank and endless
Ripped skin steaming
Broken hands reaching
Engine skipping
Something not catching
Missing spark
Absent skid marks
He swerved on her, it was a matter of not wanting to be with her any longer. So he made a move that the new generation calls ‘swerve’, he made his presence known along with the fact he didn’t want her.
Bridger had to swerve to avoid running into the accident in front of him. Dammit he swore. Going too fast again, and there were cops all over the place. An announcement told him that his social security account would be debited for the speeding fine, and he swore again. What the hell. He was trying to find Lucas, who could be anywhere by now, but he really needed to see this through.
I swore as I swerved out of the way – wait for a second, because a horse was barreling towards me? I paused, pulled to the side and looked around. My windows were sprayed with dust and there was a man blinking at me in really old-fashioned clothes.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
“What’s the year?” I cut in breathlessly.
Swerve to where you want to be. Don’t take the direct path as that has no adventure to it. Be daring, be bold. Take the path that scares you instead of always sticking to the straight and narrow. You never know where a bit of deviation will take you when you are least expecting it. Swerve right, swerve right…just don’t ever let yourself feel stuck in a situation.
I was speeding around the corner and had to swerve hard to the left to avoid the cat in the middle of the road…it appeared to be injured as nothing but its’ tail moved. I stopped
Hands at ten and two. Ignition on, handbrake off. Move into first gear then accelerate, now drive.
2:03 am. 27/11/16. Late night or early morning but the sounds are asleep, my head is quiet. There are no other cars on this quiet road, just the flicker of cat’s eyes and fireflies in the road, like willow the wisps; guiding me, leading me astray. Flashes from streetlights rush past, and I see her.
Flash.
Her laid in bed, hands in mine, legs entwined.
Flash.
Her across the table, smiling down at her food.
Flash.
Her reading with steaming tea in hand, feet up on a chair.
Flash.
Her-
Flash.
-screaming.
Flash.
Black.
–
See the drop up ahead. Accelerate. Accelerate. Pull the steering wheel.
Swerve. That’s what I should’ve have done. I should’ve hit the turtle and moved on. Instead, I swerved, and now I am stranded in the ditch, in the middle of nowhere with no cell service and no idea where I am.
Sometimes for no reason I like to swerve back and forth. Please don’t ask why.
He swerved the car and drove like a maniac. The time was ticking and he was constantly worried whether he will be able to make it or not.His thoughts swerved between present and past as he drove the car in the mad traffic. It started drizzling and suddenly turned into torrents. The traffic cleared a bit with two wheeler keeping off the road, but he could hardly see and he had to drive carefully. Tears came gushing down his cheeks like the rain outside.
It’s the name of a sugar substitute. The word we use to describe avoiding somebody, but when Rita swerved, when I saw her grip the wheel and scream, “Hold on!”, those are the only things I could remember. That, and the horrifying blue blur of the cars in front of us as we pulled off to the side. It had only been in instant, but we all panted like we’d run a marathon.
I ran down the hallway as fast as I could. My legs were burning and lungs heaving but I couldn’t stop now. I didn’t see them till it was too late. Throwing myself to the side, I swerved away with all my strength, missing the enemy’s sword by a hair.
his body processes what’s going on before his brain does. rising up of nowhere in front of him is the back of a truck, and his eyes widen in shock. his hands move by themselves as he yanks the steering wheel with force; muscle memory, and he is almost too afraid to look when his car veers wildly to the right and into the trees the second before he could crash.
paths were meant to be broken, correct?
lines were meant to be bent.
in boxes, you cannot grasp the stars.
with laws, you cannot be free.
roads were meant to be swerved off of.
shattered shackles line the halls of kings.
She felt the car hum beneath her and the power in her hand scared her. She gripped the wheel tighter. She glanced over at her mom in the passenger’s seat.
“Eyes on the road, Lily.”
Eyes on the road. Feet on the brakes. Hands on the wheel. Keep your head on straight and don’t freak out.
swerving is an act i am too familiar with these unpredictable days. i have slight swerves to learn about creating online products. i have experience different types of swerves. this swerves include accidental, slight, sudden, and spontaneous types of veering.
swerving is a word i m too familiar with these crazy days. i swerve this way only to be swerved that way with producing my online products and growing my business. i need to stay focus.
as i werved i knew that my beginning had come to an end i was longer human neither dead nor alive but swerving through time.
Moving left to right, that’s what swerving is. It’s interesting because life should be like that. What’s better is when you get to live and tell the story. It’s fun being able to tell everyone about the whole spectrum of something. That’s what a swerve can do.
She looked out the window at the blue sky with white puffy clouds floating like marshmellows in hot chocolate. Her heart was full as she saw the car swerve around the tree coming up the driveway.
1swerve=Something When Encroaches Reality Verifying Exclusive
He swerved.
The car swerved unnervingly toward him, catching him in its headlights. Unimpressed, he stared it down until it changed direction, splashing him
Swerve. Das ist ein Wort, mit dem ich so gar nichts anfangen kann, ohne erstmal ins Wörterbuch zu schauen. Mein Kopf ist daher leer. Swerve. Irgendwas Schwedisches? Irgendsoetwas wie Gähnen oder Pfurzen? Oder “schräg nach hinten”? Ich weiß es nicht und mir fallen natürlich auch keine super intelligenten Interprettaionen ein.
I drunkenly entered my car. This was the point of the night I had no recollection of. But I drove and drove, trying to keep myself within the lines. Apparently I swerved partially into the next lane and almost hit the police car that ended up pulling me over.
office party
glad-handing
social swerve
oh look! another hors d’oeuvre
look at that dress!
She’s got some nerve
keep an eye on the crowd
observe
never know what you might learn
he’s such a suck up
hope he gets what he deserves
There goes Bob chasing a skirt
what a perv!
driving the corporate curves
Swerve. It was the only work that crossed my mind as the child walked in front of my car. I never expected to hit the tree. I never expected to lose my wife. I never expected the nearly lose my own life. I got lucky…or so the doctors say. How lucky can I be if I’m all alone?
YOU KNOW WE BE SWERVIN SWERVIN DOWN SOUTH SWERVIN SWERVIN
CADALAC SWERVIN
YOU KNOW WE LIKE THE SWERVE MAAAYNE
SWERVIN SWERVIN MY NAMES MERVIN MERVIN
DOWN SOUTH SWERVIN
hold up. wait a minute. Avoid at all costs. Maybe it’s supposed to happen? Nah…just go the other way…oh wait.
The other day I was sitting outside of the shrine bordering my apartment. There wasn’t quite enough time to drive somewhere and walk with enough sunlight to call it worth it, so this had to do for now. “Maybe my recent streak of bad luck is a lack of my generosity here,” I think, stating at a mostly empty donation box, but almost unconsciously my conscious speaks without restraint “…or maybe they just take the coins from here too.” I stopped in my tracks almost as fast as I turned around, seeing something small, long, green dangling in front of my face. Backing up a bit, I see it’s a little inchworm, dropping itself from the mostly bare cherry trees above. For a moment, I lift a finger, intending to let it free on some leaf in the neighboring garden, but a thought hits me, and I leave it be.
Taking a seat at the benches in the square, I watch a few wagtails gather at the ground below it – the worm is doomed, but I should just let nature take its course. They aren’t even pecking at the ground, or calling to each other, they’re just waiting. Fate takes a sharp turn, and he scene is broken by a strong guest of wind, which the inchworm rides all the way to the donation box in front of the shrine. With haste it crawls behind the bars and inside, whether to hide or the time being or make a cocoon for itself in the safety of a wooden box, I don’t know.
A silly superstition and nature contradict itself before my eyes – that little inchworm offered no coins, no offerings of any kind here, but the wind saved it none the less. I offer not a single coin but find myself penniless because of it? No, there is no pity, no force at work here, nothing – just luck, and you never know when it’s going to feed you to the wagtails.
Silly, too, is that this thought crosses my mind because of a worm. I could go home, but I choose to sit a little longer. Maybe a car will come speed around the corner and ruin the shrine and its donation box, I can’t rule out that possibility, nor deny myself the chance the see it.
So I watch.
Round and round we go, where we stop God only knows. Will we fall or will we fly? Who in the end will survive?
Watch the cars spin and swerve on a wet country road. Their dance is deadly. Their faces are scratched and bleeding. Oil and rainbows. Oil and rainbows. Oil and rainbows! Their buck-toothed smiles go clickety-clack as they slow against the damp rails.
Stand at your window and sip your late night decaf as the build-up grows. The sirens whimper more than scream. Even the police cars are dragged into the choreography – they spin and they swerve and they dance.
Dead on the road
Ribs collapsed, eyes wide
Blank and endless
Tire’s embrace,
Touched so deep
Press of friction finally warming
A bit of skin
A bit of inside
I tried to side step
Going the right speed
I did, I was, I thought
But maybe I just clenched my teeth
Steady on the gas
No sounds from a stunned speed bump
Slowing, stopping,
Creaking rusty door
My eyes wide
Blank and endless
Ripped skin steaming
Broken hands reaching
Engine skipping
Something not catching
Missing spark
Absent skid marks
the car swerved and everything went black the like a wall reality hit back
He swerved on her, it was a matter of not wanting to be with her any longer. So he made a move that the new generation calls ‘swerve’, he made his presence known along with the fact he didn’t want her.