I need to take turns when we play on the playground. First Suzy has a turn, then Melissa, and finally it’s my turn. I feel happy when it’s my turn to be on the swings. Then my time is up and it’s someone else’s turn to be on the swings.
This is a turning point–I can see that now. Though my body remains sweat-stuck to a stiff chair and my hands hang limply at my sides, this is a turning point. You could see it if you looked real intently into my eyes under a good light: something behind these muted blues is working itself into life again.
Es ist kalt draußen und ich überlege, was ich tun soll. Soll ich umdrehen und gehen? Oder doch weiterlaufen, diesem ungewissen entgegen und versuchen es zu begegnen? Leise Zweifel schleichen sich bei mir ein. Was, wenn sie mich hassen? Mich nicht respektieren? Ich kenne sie doch gar nicht. Ich kann nicht so weiter machen.
in turn, we can all make an awesome life for yourself, you just have to realize that you can….make it happen….imagine it. call it…and it will be yours…if you realy want it….
John drove up to the T junction.
He wasn’t headed in any particular direction. John was just going for a drive. Wherever he went next was his choice and his choice only. He was free.
He grinned as he chose to turn left.
He was immediately hit by a truck and died.
John should have gone right. He would’ve survived and died of cancer three weeks later instead.
Voices could be heard near me, they were getting louder, I knew the source was approaching fast. I turned my head towards the noise, curly blonde hair whipping in the cold icy wind. Forest green eyes met chocolate brown ones. His lips turned up in a smile, one that could light up the darkest night. His smile contagious causing mine to quick a smile as well.
Voices could be heard near me, they were getting louder, I knew the source was approaching fast. I turned my head towards the noise, curly blonde hair whipping in the cold icy wind. Forest green eyes met chocolate brown ones. His lips turned up in a smile, one that could light up the darkest night.
Don’t touch the light. Don’t…
I know that you really, really want to, but I am begging you…
You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to…
You can turn around and walk away and not turn out the light
Turns are unavoidable in our lives, right? But technically, if we were all going down the straight path…and always made the right decisions, we would never have to face a turn in our lives. But I guess because we make mistakes and whatnot, we are bound to make turns because there are so many freaking paths that look “similar” or look like the “right” one. Y
Turn left. Turn right. Turn left. Turn left again. Or was that right again?
I’ve been going like this for an hour. I don’t think I’ve remembered my instructions very well. I can see it’s starting to get dark outside.
I think I might be stuck in this labyrinth.
I don’t remember the way out…
turn left…turn right…
No I can’t remember.
And I hear the steps behind me…
The shift between enemy and acquaintance is sudden, and most definitely unexpected. It turns one summer evening, shaped between the little space allowed between two grappling bodies when the sexual tension finally, finally snaps. He’s there, of course, the subject of your violent fantasies–yet you can’t stop him when his lips collide with yours again, and again, and again.
After all, it was building up to this–either this, or death.
She turns to me, relentless, eyes dark in the moonlight. There’s something about her, something I can’t quite place, that makes my skin crawl and my stature shrink and my mouth taste inexplicably of bile. I don’t think I know her, not anymore. I wonder if I ever even knew her in the first place. Her lips are sharp and curled in amusement as she watches me.
Heart thudding, eyes damp, I am nothing but afraid.
Time was turning even faster than she expected. Before, she couldn’t wait to get out of that little town; eager to put everything behind her. Now, all she’s left with are the memories, the idyllic period of her life that she longed to get back. Unfortunately, regret doesn’t work that way. It subtly claws through, little by little, until you’re overwhelmed with pain and sorrow and guilt.
I like people to take turns. When it’s my turn I go. Taking turns is an organized and orderly way to do things. I also turn when I dance. In my line dancing we turn to the left and then turn to the right.
It was his turn. he could feel the sweat rolling down his back. Time froze for a moment. He knew it was time to go. No one had ever returned. They all awaited their turn to go. Now it was his.
We turned the corner into the cul-de-sac and cut the lights. They were supposed to be arriving within a few minutes. We timed everything closely, rehearsed over and over again to make sure that everything went right. This, of course, made me nervous that everything would go wrong.
The car was going too fast for the turn, and it was trying to pass a logging truck at the same time. We all tensed up, afraid to yell as we would distract the driver, who had a maniacal smile on his face, his teeth gritted, like he had some personal vendetta to settle with the driver of the logging truck. Once we were safe – no car came in the other direction and we didn’t go flying off the road into the river – we wiped our brows, looked at each other and didn’t look at the driver. We still had 8 hours to go until we reached his destination. We certainly didn’t want to make him mad.
Each turn would be a hundred years. He gave the dial three turns. Then he thought of Jack, disdainful, “you *would* just make a time machine to travel to tomorrow, wouldn’t you?”
This wasn’t the time to be cautious. He cranked, faster and faster. He would go as far as there was enough fuel to go. Then the handle broke.
I whip around to see a lady standing there. Her glasses perch low on her nose, making her large eyes seem even bigger. She smells like garlic and pumpernickel bread and I watch as she gnaws her lips methodically. “And you are?” she asks me, curiously.
If you could only get directions like that in your life. Let’s say when you’re 20 or a little bit older, because any younger, well, other people are at the wheel for you. You don’t always like which way they’re going and you wish to hell they’d make better decisions and you could scream when you get to a place that you had nothing to do with because you weren’t driving, but. So here you are, 20 and now you’ve got the wheel. You think you’re smart; you’ve been to college, right? Not everyone can say that, but you’ve been there, learned a few things. So now you’re ready to make your own turns, do things you want. Except that every time you take one of these turns, you wind up in a pile of shit deeper than the last one you were in. Now, this isn’t everyone. So let’s say we’re just talking here about me. The one thing I never told myself when I should have, when this guy was a bastard or that guy didn’t want to be with me all the time or that job was wrong for me or this friendship was not good for me, the one thing I did not do was say, Hey, what are you doing, TURN!!!. No. Didn’t do that when I should have. But there were a couple of times when I did. And i think that if you can make even just one or two of those turns, you’re doing pretty well. Am I rambling? Well then. Hey you–TURN!!
i used to be a dancer and i was a good dancer. it was actually my passion and my hobby. i was a beautiful dancer as much as i didn’t like to admit it the music mixed in with the way we could make our bodies twist and turn and flow captured me every time. i stopped because of my little sister even though i won’t admit that either. i miss dance but its too late to go back.
She turned around to realize he had been holding a gun to her head the whole time. “I’m sorry, but i’ve always hated you” were the last words she heard from her father
I would turn around to look at you, but I can’t. I can’t keep watching you leave; I can’t keep seeing you walking away from me. You tell me everyday that this is the last time you’re going, that now, we can be in one place at one time.
“So who wants to go on the merry-go-round?” barked the carousel operator, as the children squealed and bounced up and down, their cheeks round and pink from cotton candy and peppermint.
“My turn! My turn!” shrieked one diminutive little girl, skipping toward the white unicorn. That seemed to make all of her little friends angry. They, too, wanted to ride the white unicorn, so the carousel operator had her job cut out for her.
it’s my turn she yelled. henley was a growing 3 year old. not only growing physically but also learning the power of her voice. If she demanded loud enough and long enough, she usually got her way
If you turn the wrong way
down the wrong road
you will
perhaps
Find yourself lost and out of satelite range
You may dip your wheels
into
a forgotten pothole
and dent your car
you may pick up some dust
your heart is as dark as the moral majority
your lies are as strong as superpac’s authority
your mouth, saying two things at the same time
your thighs, tight as Bush v Gore’s hate crimes
our love was as overwhelming as Reagan in 80
our home dysfunctional as Trump’s race baiting
I ran without thinking, without turning to look back i still knew he was behind me. His hot stale breath on my neck gave me goosebumps as i ran for my life, for i knew that if i slowed for even one moment i would be caught and there would be no hope. Running out of the dark alleyway and into the dimly lit street i hoped some one would notice be. And young girl be chased against her will. A shot rang through the air and i ducked, even more scared then before, not trusting my self or other people enough to run into these dingy buildings to maybe find help. I couldn’t think of why i would be so stupid to come into this part of the city tonight. Especially with the bounty on my head. But of course i had to find out what happened. I couldn’t just stand by and wait for the police to come. Especially not when i had noticed someone following me. The collar of his coat had been turned up and he was looking down, wearing sunglasses, so i couldn’t tell who he was but i knew he was following me, and i knew he was bad news. So here i am. running for my life. scolding my self for being so stupid. another sot ring through the air and i duck again, running faster, tears leaking out of the corner of my eyes. Bam! I run into something hard and fall back onto the ground, petrified i look behind me struggling to get up, then looking ahead i see what i had run into.
The room was spinning and the world was turning and I felt like I was staying absolutely still. It was a strange feeling, which is putting it lightly. I blinked a few times and smiled, hoping that maybe that would keep everything stable.
It didn’t really work.
I don’t know if I really expected it to.
I need to take turns when we play on the playground. First Suzy has a turn, then Melissa, and finally it’s my turn. I feel happy when it’s my turn to be on the swings. Then my time is up and it’s someone else’s turn to be on the swings.
This is a turning point–I can see that now. Though my body remains sweat-stuck to a stiff chair and my hands hang limply at my sides, this is a turning point. You could see it if you looked real intently into my eyes under a good light: something behind these muted blues is working itself into life again.
A bicycles wheels turn around super fast depending on the speed.
Turn around.
Do you see it yet?
It’s coming.
You must feel it by now.
At least.
A Bit.
Feels like change.
Change without meaning.
Maybe it’s safer to stay facing the way you were.
Less to worry about.
Less to fear.
As I was up in a turn, I felt myself stumble. I rolled my ankle and fell. I could not dance for a week, I was injured.
Es ist kalt draußen und ich überlege, was ich tun soll. Soll ich umdrehen und gehen? Oder doch weiterlaufen, diesem ungewissen entgegen und versuchen es zu begegnen? Leise Zweifel schleichen sich bei mir ein. Was, wenn sie mich hassen? Mich nicht respektieren? Ich kenne sie doch gar nicht. Ich kann nicht so weiter machen.
in turn, we can all make an awesome life for yourself, you just have to realize that you can….make it happen….imagine it. call it…and it will be yours…if you realy want it….
the cow turned around in its stall last night when it was supossed to get milked but it was a new cow so it was its first time
John drove up to the T junction.
He wasn’t headed in any particular direction. John was just going for a drive. Wherever he went next was his choice and his choice only. He was free.
He grinned as he chose to turn left.
He was immediately hit by a truck and died.
John should have gone right. He would’ve survived and died of cancer three weeks later instead.
Voices could be heard near me, they were getting louder, I knew the source was approaching fast. I turned my head towards the noise, curly blonde hair whipping in the cold icy wind. Forest green eyes met chocolate brown ones. His lips turned up in a smile, one that could light up the darkest night. His smile contagious causing mine to quick a smile as well.
Voices could be heard near me, they were getting louder, I knew the source was approaching fast. I turned my head towards the noise, curly blonde hair whipping in the cold icy wind. Forest green eyes met chocolate brown ones. His lips turned up in a smile, one that could light up the darkest night.
Don’t touch the light. Don’t…
I know that you really, really want to, but I am begging you…
You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to…
You can turn around and walk away and not turn out the light
Turns are unavoidable in our lives, right? But technically, if we were all going down the straight path…and always made the right decisions, we would never have to face a turn in our lives. But I guess because we make mistakes and whatnot, we are bound to make turns because there are so many freaking paths that look “similar” or look like the “right” one. Y
Turn left. Turn right. Turn left. Turn left again. Or was that right again?
I’ve been going like this for an hour. I don’t think I’ve remembered my instructions very well. I can see it’s starting to get dark outside.
I think I might be stuck in this labyrinth.
I don’t remember the way out…
turn left…turn right…
No I can’t remember.
And I hear the steps behind me…
Whoosh! Gyrados twist and turned and slammed Pikachu into the ground, sustaining high damage throughout the tournament.
The shift between enemy and acquaintance is sudden, and most definitely unexpected. It turns one summer evening, shaped between the little space allowed between two grappling bodies when the sexual tension finally, finally snaps. He’s there, of course, the subject of your violent fantasies–yet you can’t stop him when his lips collide with yours again, and again, and again.
After all, it was building up to this–either this, or death.
She turns to me, relentless, eyes dark in the moonlight. There’s something about her, something I can’t quite place, that makes my skin crawl and my stature shrink and my mouth taste inexplicably of bile. I don’t think I know her, not anymore. I wonder if I ever even knew her in the first place. Her lips are sharp and curled in amusement as she watches me.
Heart thudding, eyes damp, I am nothing but afraid.
Time was turning even faster than she expected. Before, she couldn’t wait to get out of that little town; eager to put everything behind her. Now, all she’s left with are the memories, the idyllic period of her life that she longed to get back. Unfortunately, regret doesn’t work that way. It subtly claws through, little by little, until you’re overwhelmed with pain and sorrow and guilt.
I like people to take turns. When it’s my turn I go. Taking turns is an organized and orderly way to do things. I also turn when I dance. In my line dancing we turn to the left and then turn to the right.
It was his turn. he could feel the sweat rolling down his back. Time froze for a moment. He knew it was time to go. No one had ever returned. They all awaited their turn to go. Now it was his.
We turned the corner into the cul-de-sac and cut the lights. They were supposed to be arriving within a few minutes. We timed everything closely, rehearsed over and over again to make sure that everything went right. This, of course, made me nervous that everything would go wrong.
The car was going too fast for the turn, and it was trying to pass a logging truck at the same time. We all tensed up, afraid to yell as we would distract the driver, who had a maniacal smile on his face, his teeth gritted, like he had some personal vendetta to settle with the driver of the logging truck. Once we were safe – no car came in the other direction and we didn’t go flying off the road into the river – we wiped our brows, looked at each other and didn’t look at the driver. We still had 8 hours to go until we reached his destination. We certainly didn’t want to make him mad.
i think of a street and when youd turn and stuff
Each turn would be a hundred years. He gave the dial three turns. Then he thought of Jack, disdainful, “you *would* just make a time machine to travel to tomorrow, wouldn’t you?”
This wasn’t the time to be cautious. He cranked, faster and faster. He would go as far as there was enough fuel to go. Then the handle broke.
I whip around to see a lady standing there. Her glasses perch low on her nose, making her large eyes seem even bigger. She smells like garlic and pumpernickel bread and I watch as she gnaws her lips methodically. “And you are?” she asks me, curiously.
Turn around, go back! You cannot help us here! Believe me! Just walk back home!
turn
If you could only get directions like that in your life. Let’s say when you’re 20 or a little bit older, because any younger, well, other people are at the wheel for you. You don’t always like which way they’re going and you wish to hell they’d make better decisions and you could scream when you get to a place that you had nothing to do with because you weren’t driving, but. So here you are, 20 and now you’ve got the wheel. You think you’re smart; you’ve been to college, right? Not everyone can say that, but you’ve been there, learned a few things. So now you’re ready to make your own turns, do things you want. Except that every time you take one of these turns, you wind up in a pile of shit deeper than the last one you were in. Now, this isn’t everyone. So let’s say we’re just talking here about me. The one thing I never told myself when I should have, when this guy was a bastard or that guy didn’t want to be with me all the time or that job was wrong for me or this friendship was not good for me, the one thing I did not do was say, Hey, what are you doing, TURN!!!. No. Didn’t do that when I should have. But there were a couple of times when I did. And i think that if you can make even just one or two of those turns, you’re doing pretty well. Am I rambling? Well then. Hey you–TURN!!
turn and turn again I find myself still at the same square and asking the same questions. I would like to turn into and around and over something new.
i used to be a dancer and i was a good dancer. it was actually my passion and my hobby. i was a beautiful dancer as much as i didn’t like to admit it the music mixed in with the way we could make our bodies twist and turn and flow captured me every time. i stopped because of my little sister even though i won’t admit that either. i miss dance but its too late to go back.
Sometimes, I get so dizzy. I’ve tried standing still, but it just gets worse. Ever since it’s stopped going, I’ve been off-kilter. Poor planet
She turned around to realize he had been holding a gun to her head the whole time. “I’m sorry, but i’ve always hated you” were the last words she heard from her father
I would turn around to look at you, but I can’t. I can’t keep watching you leave; I can’t keep seeing you walking away from me. You tell me everyday that this is the last time you’re going, that now, we can be in one place at one time.
“So who wants to go on the merry-go-round?” barked the carousel operator, as the children squealed and bounced up and down, their cheeks round and pink from cotton candy and peppermint.
“My turn! My turn!” shrieked one diminutive little girl, skipping toward the white unicorn. That seemed to make all of her little friends angry. They, too, wanted to ride the white unicorn, so the carousel operator had her job cut out for her.
it’s my turn she yelled. henley was a growing 3 year old. not only growing physically but also learning the power of her voice. If she demanded loud enough and long enough, she usually got her way
Despite the absurdity of the idea, Bill turned left to go to work instead of right. That choice changed his life forever.
If you turn the wrong way
down the wrong road
you will
perhaps
Find yourself lost and out of satelite range
You may dip your wheels
into
a forgotten pothole
and dent your car
you may pick up some dust
Or you may find something wonderful
your heart is as dark as the moral majority
your lies are as strong as superpac’s authority
your mouth, saying two things at the same time
your thighs, tight as Bush v Gore’s hate crimes
our love was as overwhelming as Reagan in 80
our home dysfunctional as Trump’s race baiting
I ran without thinking, without turning to look back i still knew he was behind me. His hot stale breath on my neck gave me goosebumps as i ran for my life, for i knew that if i slowed for even one moment i would be caught and there would be no hope. Running out of the dark alleyway and into the dimly lit street i hoped some one would notice be. And young girl be chased against her will. A shot rang through the air and i ducked, even more scared then before, not trusting my self or other people enough to run into these dingy buildings to maybe find help. I couldn’t think of why i would be so stupid to come into this part of the city tonight. Especially with the bounty on my head. But of course i had to find out what happened. I couldn’t just stand by and wait for the police to come. Especially not when i had noticed someone following me. The collar of his coat had been turned up and he was looking down, wearing sunglasses, so i couldn’t tell who he was but i knew he was following me, and i knew he was bad news. So here i am. running for my life. scolding my self for being so stupid. another sot ring through the air and i duck again, running faster, tears leaking out of the corner of my eyes. Bam! I run into something hard and fall back onto the ground, petrified i look behind me struggling to get up, then looking ahead i see what i had run into.
The room was spinning and the world was turning and I felt like I was staying absolutely still. It was a strange feeling, which is putting it lightly. I blinked a few times and smiled, hoping that maybe that would keep everything stable.
It didn’t really work.
I don’t know if I really expected it to.