“Thief!” She shouts. “Catch her! She stole my daughter’s purse!”
I run quickly through the streets trying my best to stay hidden. Miss Susie will have my head if I get caught. I run and duck behind several buildings, then finally slip into the sewers free from being caught.
“That’s what we do Addie!” Nelson shouted at her. “We’re thieves!” He laughed. Addie stared at him in silence. “We rob people, we steal” Nelson walked closely around her like an animal trying to intimidate its prey., but Addie kept her feet planted firmly on the ground. “We kill people too” He leaned into her with his velvet tone, allowing his breath to tickle her ear. “But most of all” He chuckled. “We. Are. Thieves.” He grabbed her by the shoulders to face him. “You good with that?” He stared at her. “Wouldn’t have you any other way Turner” She looked up at him. “Dirt bag outlaw and all” She smirked an evil grin. “That’s my little miss” Nelson kissed her so forcefully he almost knocked her over.
“You sure you’re ready to join this band of thieves?” Nelson hopped onto his horse. “Bang bang bang bang vamonos vamonos” Addie laughed as she hopped on behind him.
I am surrounded by thieves that wish to take away every joy and pleasure, and replace them with an emptiness that leaves me in a state of dispair and longing. These thieves… they must be exposed, rejected, pushed aside, surrounded and overcome with love and passion.
They danced about in the darkness, flitting from rooftop to rooftop. They moved carefully, these madmen, these thieves, hunting for something. When one of them spotted an open window, he pointed. The others eagerly followed, leaping into the light from whence they came.
We were thick as thieves, my sister and I. We went to the park and skinned our knees together, made ‘real’ medicine out of mud and leaves and bark together, ran around in the woods like wild children together. My sister and I, we were together. My sister and I. We aren’t together, anymore. We were thick as thieves. The man who hurt her didn’t care.
cold fingers.
raised heartbeats.
it was summer. the air fresh, our love perhaps growing stale.
we were thieves.
deciding to steal the night and each others hearts even for just a moment.
cold fingers. raised heartbeats. it was summer. the air fresh, our love perhaps growing stale. we were thieves. deciding to steal the night and each others hearts even for just a moment.
My mind is lost in case files,
as I sort through pictures,
of indistinguishable faces.
I try to find the thief,
but can concentrate only
on the gaping hole in my chest.
You know, like that one time when you ran off to Columbia and took every reminder of who you were, with you? You know, like that time when you drove away into the ether, and the only thing remaining behind was a pair of hula hoops, duct taped together with pretty little patterns. You know, like that time when we were together at five-thirty in the goddamn morning inside your vanlife van and my dad drove by looking for me because I’m “only” twenty-five and I ran because god forbid my parents catch me with a stranger twined around me at five-thirty in the goddamn morning and the last words I heard you cry were “Find me,” but since we are thieves we never return what we stole and time doesn’t come with a receipt anyway.
Society is full of them, these masked beings. They are a tidal wave through the sanity of the minds of the innocent. They tear at the very roots of our morals, these thieves, and they leave us looking ‘crazy.’
She snatched the apple and ran, giggling, back to her sister. Under the safety of the table, the table cloth hiding them from sight, they took turns taking bites and wiping the juice from their chins and the adults continued to mingle and schmooze over the soft jazz playing from the next room.
There were many kinds of thieves Tarquin knew. The kind that did it out of spite, to anger him and his court, the kind that did it out of desperation because they had no choice, that didn’t make one better than the other.
Diebe. Sie klauen dir alles. Auch noch dein letztes Hemd. Und wenn sie nichts finden, weil du nackt bist, weil du keine Taschen hast, weil dir auch dein Haar schon geschoren wurde und weil einfach nichs mehr zu holen ist, dann nehmen sie dir auch noch dein Leben. Obwohl sie damit gar nichts anfangen können. Sie nehmen es dir zwar, aber sie werden es trotzdem nicht bekommen.
They didn’t start out this way. They were not always thieves. One of them use to be a doctor, one a business owner, the other a manger at a bank. All three of them had names, families, respect from their community. But that all changed when the war broke out and now they had none of those things, all they had now were each other and whatever things they could slyly steal away in the night.
memories are the thieves of my sleep-time. they come at night wandering around the corridors of my brain-cell, trying to get my attention. they are getting more interesting to be noticed minutes by minutes. they evolve into horrendous imagination, and then flung into a dream abyss. once I surrender to it, I cannot wake up without feeling terrorized.
Her tongue twisted in her mouth. If anything, what came before was just a distraction. What mattered was now. This was real. Thieving time wound slowly around her as she began to take her first few steps.
Thieves. Right now, Donald Trump is a thief of my time, my happiness, my peace of mind. The New Yorker, or else the New York Times, had an article saying he is making the women of the United States ill. Yesterday, carelessly, I cut my hand in between the index finger and the thumb. Blood welled out. I think it’s because I’m tense and nervous about what might happen in the United States. On the other hand, at times, I think the U.S. bureaucracy is so awful, and another bigtime thief of my time, and maybe we should elect Donald Trump — let him destroy the entire government, tear down the buildings, throw tax money in the air to land where it will, and we’ll all go to the beach. Unfortunately, I can’t stay overnight because I can’t afford his hotels. Then reason prevails!
The thieves wore black to the heist, though only a couple actually knew what they were doing. The one leading the foray into the building worried about those that lagged behind frequently looking back as the two that came wih her kept hesitating and stopping in between flashes of light. Once one nearly tripped over a loose stone when a bark sounded nearby. The first cursed in her head calling upon the Trickster to keep him from being discovered.
Thieves are people who come and steal from you. Thieves dont have to steal and actual thing – it could be emotion, physical, an item …. anything! Thieves are a group of people who steal something together.
No one knew how the thieves entered the house. “They must have been observing us for weeks,” Mrs. Drew said. “But how did they get in an steal all my jewels while I was asleep in my bed? I didn’t hear anything.”
Three thieves broke into the Lancaster Inn around two o’clock in the morning – only to be chased out of the vicinity by a furious fifty-three-year-old woman brandishing a broken vacuum cleaner like an overgrown club. I would know; I witnessed the whole thing from the lobby, after I had fetched a bucket of ice so my wife and I could enjoy a bottle of champagne. By the time the police arrived, they found the burglars hiding in the parking lot, of all places, as if enormous trucks and vans could block them from everyone else’s view.
Thieves are among us all the time. They are the things that steal your time, money, hope, happiness and comfort. Anxiety and depression are my thieves. They steal me away from those who I love, especially my family.
Hearts sit in the open,
In sunlight and in darkness.
They catch the whispers of angels,
Sitting pearched on thin fences,
Waiting to be skewered by
The words of the devil.
They fall from burnt bridges,
And bond the gaps in distance.
Hearts sit on the shelves,
Of designer stores
until the right person comes;
With hands sly enough.
The pump to make music,
Of a song heard only by one.
They act criminally,
making people fall,
Into a mess called love.
Stolen out of thin air,
Ripped from the chests of the innocent.
Hearts beat for their thief
The people I opened up to in my past were all thieves. They stole my heart and tore in pieces. They didn’t handle it appropriately as the ‘fragile’ box directed, for they didn’t care. They just wanted to sell it for what it was worth.
the world abandoned them before they even had a chance to live. stalking shadows, holding remnants of stars in their eyes, they were weak with rage. the universe had given them everything and taken it away in an instant, what else were they to do? try to cope with the mockery the world had made of them? no. they were going to take back what they deserved, what should’ve been.
it was only fair.
What can I say about thieves that hasn’t been said already? Perhaps I could compare them to a ripe avocado, a comparison that is completely arbitrary and meaningless, but nonetheless unique.
They remind me of everything I once was, a man on the edge looking for an outlet. Luckily, however, i’ve changed my burgling ways and now i’m a good Samaritan looking out for those cool kids yo. Also imma steal that virginity ayyy.
pitpockets of suns,
cans in hand clinking
with crystal teeth.
what is it worth
to be forgotten,
crosshair shading
of city lights,
but still there are
bluebird skies
and pockets full
of sunshine
“Thief!” She shouts. “Catch her! She stole my daughter’s purse!”
I run quickly through the streets trying my best to stay hidden. Miss Susie will have my head if I get caught. I run and duck behind several buildings, then finally slip into the sewers free from being caught.
Thieves can be me and you… We can steal a lot of things, like money or feelings… Maybe it is a point of view…
Thieves exist in on all levels. To steel is to take without permission, an act which happens on a daily
“That’s what we do Addie!” Nelson shouted at her. “We’re thieves!” He laughed. Addie stared at him in silence. “We rob people, we steal” Nelson walked closely around her like an animal trying to intimidate its prey., but Addie kept her feet planted firmly on the ground. “We kill people too” He leaned into her with his velvet tone, allowing his breath to tickle her ear. “But most of all” He chuckled. “We. Are. Thieves.” He grabbed her by the shoulders to face him. “You good with that?” He stared at her. “Wouldn’t have you any other way Turner” She looked up at him. “Dirt bag outlaw and all” She smirked an evil grin. “That’s my little miss” Nelson kissed her so forcefully he almost knocked her over.
“You sure you’re ready to join this band of thieves?” Nelson hopped onto his horse. “Bang bang bang bang vamonos vamonos” Addie laughed as she hopped on behind him.
I am surrounded by thieves that wish to take away every joy and pleasure, and replace them with an emptiness that leaves me in a state of dispair and longing. These thieves… they must be exposed, rejected, pushed aside, surrounded and overcome with love and passion.
they still things that don’t belong to them
They danced about in the darkness, flitting from rooftop to rooftop. They moved carefully, these madmen, these thieves, hunting for something. When one of them spotted an open window, he pointed. The others eagerly followed, leaping into the light from whence they came.
We were thick as thieves, my sister and I. We went to the park and skinned our knees together, made ‘real’ medicine out of mud and leaves and bark together, ran around in the woods like wild children together. My sister and I, we were together. My sister and I. We aren’t together, anymore. We were thick as thieves. The man who hurt her didn’t care.
Jewels? Are you kidding? What do you take us for, common thugs?
Cash? Hardly. We’ve come for something valuable.
Your reputation? Clearly we have differing definitions of “valuable.”
Time, dear boy. The one thing you can’t get back. And we’ll be taking all of it.
In a dark place people always seem to stumble. Most will catch themselves before they fall but some are simply unlucky.
cold fingers.
raised heartbeats.
it was summer. the air fresh, our love perhaps growing stale.
we were thieves.
deciding to steal the night and each others hearts even for just a moment.
cold fingers. raised heartbeats. it was summer. the air fresh, our love perhaps growing stale. we were thieves. deciding to steal the night and each others hearts even for just a moment.
I don’t like thieves. Once i was walking, so two guys stopped me with a gun and take my cellphone.
My mind is lost in case files,
as I sort through pictures,
of indistinguishable faces.
I try to find the thief,
but can concentrate only
on the gaping hole in my chest.
All of those thieves have taken all our cash and Money for the TENTH Time today!!!
Thieves have taken away all the money from my Bank!
You know, like that one time when you ran off to Columbia and took every reminder of who you were, with you? You know, like that time when you drove away into the ether, and the only thing remaining behind was a pair of hula hoops, duct taped together with pretty little patterns. You know, like that time when we were together at five-thirty in the goddamn morning inside your vanlife van and my dad drove by looking for me because I’m “only” twenty-five and I ran because god forbid my parents catch me with a stranger twined around me at five-thirty in the goddamn morning and the last words I heard you cry were “Find me,” but since we are thieves we never return what we stole and time doesn’t come with a receipt anyway.
Society is full of them, these masked beings. They are a tidal wave through the sanity of the minds of the innocent. They tear at the very roots of our morals, these thieves, and they leave us looking ‘crazy.’
She snatched the apple and ran, giggling, back to her sister. Under the safety of the table, the table cloth hiding them from sight, they took turns taking bites and wiping the juice from their chins and the adults continued to mingle and schmooze over the soft jazz playing from the next room.
some thieves don’t steal things, they take your peace and happyness. I think they are worse than the ones stealing things. It’s just things after all.
I kept walking, pulling my collar up even further against the cold. I could hear footsteps behind me, at least three pairs. I sped up.
During the black plague, thieves used a special oil to protect them from the plague when they looted houses, thus inventing thieves oil.
There were many kinds of thieves Tarquin knew. The kind that did it out of spite, to anger him and his court, the kind that did it out of desperation because they had no choice, that didn’t make one better than the other.
They say there is no honor among thieves. But if our politicians are supposed to be the answer, I think I’d rather throw my lot in with the thieves.
Diebe. Sie klauen dir alles. Auch noch dein letztes Hemd. Und wenn sie nichts finden, weil du nackt bist, weil du keine Taschen hast, weil dir auch dein Haar schon geschoren wurde und weil einfach nichs mehr zu holen ist, dann nehmen sie dir auch noch dein Leben. Obwohl sie damit gar nichts anfangen können. Sie nehmen es dir zwar, aber sie werden es trotzdem nicht bekommen.
They didn’t start out this way. They were not always thieves. One of them use to be a doctor, one a business owner, the other a manger at a bank. All three of them had names, families, respect from their community. But that all changed when the war broke out and now they had none of those things, all they had now were each other and whatever things they could slyly steal away in the night.
memories are the thieves of my sleep-time. they come at night wandering around the corridors of my brain-cell, trying to get my attention. they are getting more interesting to be noticed minutes by minutes. they evolve into horrendous imagination, and then flung into a dream abyss. once I surrender to it, I cannot wake up without feeling terrorized.
Her tongue twisted in her mouth. If anything, what came before was just a distraction. What mattered was now. This was real. Thieving time wound slowly around her as she began to take her first few steps.
Thieves. Right now, Donald Trump is a thief of my time, my happiness, my peace of mind. The New Yorker, or else the New York Times, had an article saying he is making the women of the United States ill. Yesterday, carelessly, I cut my hand in between the index finger and the thumb. Blood welled out. I think it’s because I’m tense and nervous about what might happen in the United States. On the other hand, at times, I think the U.S. bureaucracy is so awful, and another bigtime thief of my time, and maybe we should elect Donald Trump — let him destroy the entire government, tear down the buildings, throw tax money in the air to land where it will, and we’ll all go to the beach. Unfortunately, I can’t stay overnight because I can’t afford his hotels. Then reason prevails!
The thieves wore black to the heist, though only a couple actually knew what they were doing. The one leading the foray into the building worried about those that lagged behind frequently looking back as the two that came wih her kept hesitating and stopping in between flashes of light. Once one nearly tripped over a loose stone when a bark sounded nearby. The first cursed in her head calling upon the Trickster to keep him from being discovered.
Thieves are people who come and steal from you. Thieves dont have to steal and actual thing – it could be emotion, physical, an item …. anything! Thieves are a group of people who steal something together.
No one knew how the thieves entered the house. “They must have been observing us for weeks,” Mrs. Drew said. “But how did they get in an steal all my jewels while I was asleep in my bed? I didn’t hear anything.”
Three thieves broke into the Lancaster Inn around two o’clock in the morning – only to be chased out of the vicinity by a furious fifty-three-year-old woman brandishing a broken vacuum cleaner like an overgrown club. I would know; I witnessed the whole thing from the lobby, after I had fetched a bucket of ice so my wife and I could enjoy a bottle of champagne. By the time the police arrived, they found the burglars hiding in the parking lot, of all places, as if enormous trucks and vans could block them from everyone else’s view.
Thieves are among us all the time. They are the things that steal your time, money, hope, happiness and comfort. Anxiety and depression are my thieves. They steal me away from those who I love, especially my family.
Hearts sit in the open,
In sunlight and in darkness.
They catch the whispers of angels,
Sitting pearched on thin fences,
Waiting to be skewered by
The words of the devil.
They fall from burnt bridges,
And bond the gaps in distance.
Hearts sit on the shelves,
Of designer stores
until the right person comes;
With hands sly enough.
The pump to make music,
Of a song heard only by one.
They act criminally,
making people fall,
Into a mess called love.
Stolen out of thin air,
Ripped from the chests of the innocent.
Hearts beat for their thief
The people I opened up to in my past were all thieves. They stole my heart and tore in pieces. They didn’t handle it appropriately as the ‘fragile’ box directed, for they didn’t care. They just wanted to sell it for what it was worth.
the world abandoned them before they even had a chance to live. stalking shadows, holding remnants of stars in their eyes, they were weak with rage. the universe had given them everything and taken it away in an instant, what else were they to do? try to cope with the mockery the world had made of them? no. they were going to take back what they deserved, what should’ve been.
it was only fair.
What can I say about thieves that hasn’t been said already? Perhaps I could compare them to a ripe avocado, a comparison that is completely arbitrary and meaningless, but nonetheless unique.
They remind me of everything I once was, a man on the edge looking for an outlet. Luckily, however, i’ve changed my burgling ways and now i’m a good Samaritan looking out for those cool kids yo. Also imma steal that virginity ayyy.
pitpockets of suns,
cans in hand clinking
with crystal teeth.
what is it worth
to be forgotten,
crosshair shading
of city lights,
but still there are
bluebird skies
and pockets full
of sunshine