vio
lent
i break it up. i spit it out. in my mouth, the word tastes bitter and its hard to chew.
“you must accept what you are” come the dronings of the psychiatrist. never mind her… if i can’t understand how i feel and can’t relate to it, then it isn’t me.
just because i pushed them down the stairs doesn’t make me… vi-oh-lent…
“Why Samantha, Why?” Samantha could not explain her ultra violence, her need to see bruises, to see blood. She adored violence as she adores Tommy, who was now laying on the floor covered with his own blood. “Why?” Tommy asked.
violent my love for you is violent unrelenting unsupressed unforgettable but that’s just it i want to forget you to move on to feel this way for someone else but i can’t because i’m trapped you’ve tamed me you’ve tamed my spirit my soul you’re refusal to love me is so violent
abuse violence rape sex murder life charles manson cult homesless racist uncontrolled hopeless hopefull streetart rebellion artwork beauty innerbeauty love lust
The pain seared through the veins, it pierced every vital organ in the body – it seemed. Nothing was spared, everything seemed to be in the midst of the brutality. Nothing was salvaged. Nothing. And he stood in the middle of it all, wondering where they went wrong. What did they do to endure so much pain.
There was a violent sound coming from the kitchen. A woman was screaming and her window was open wide enough to hear it all. She sounded possessed, but in an odd way. We stopped shooting the basketball to see what the commotion was and when we looked through her kitchen window we realized that we’d made a mistake.
She wasn’t being accosted like we’d assumed. She was screaming for joy.
Her boyfriend eyed us both and we scattered quicker than a pair of deer across the highway.
Violence is something that has never been an answer but then again that wasn’t a rule people actually lived by. “Violence isn’t the answer” is one of those rules that is taught until you know violence is wrong but once you understand its wrong then nobody enforces it. It might just be me but there is something wrong with that…
Violent violet. She’s someone I used to know and you can tell by her name that she’s someone you might not want to mess around with. She was serious about her violence. Breaking chairs was nothing to her.
and suddenly it swept over us, violent and unpredictable. it was like the moon had lost its control on the tides. they had rebelled. it was anarchy. and somewhere deep down inside us, we knew that we had lost control, too. we were unraveling, coming apart piece by piece, and falling into eachother.
violent storm inside
pulsing, pushing, trying to make its way out
I’m desperately holding onto what remains
trying to make sense of what I’m given
raw emotion in it’s simplest of terms:
love, hope, fear,
all in the mixture of a storm
Something that is scary. I just want to run from it. Violence is a bad thing and needs to be stopped. If there was no violence everyone would get along. Life would be much easier and everyone would be happier. Why is there so much violence and hatred in the world today? Why can’t people just put aside there differences and get along?
He thrashed out, smacking her in the face, the arms, the torso. And so she responded in the only way she knew how: she let out a high-pitched wail and then smacked him upside the head with her frying pan. He crumpled to the ground, and she sighed, then returned to making her pancakes.
I REALLY DON’T EVEN WANT TO THINK ABOUT THINGS THAT ARE VIOLENT! There is way too much violence in the world to waste any of my, could be happy, thoughts on giving it my extra attention. That’s not to say that we shouldn’t ever think about violence. We should take a good long look at it and where it has gotten us on this planet. If everyone chose for just one moment in time to not be violent or seek violence or enjoy violence, perhaps there would be hope for a better world.
Perfect word today- I just feel like thrashing around and getting away from my house because srsly SO FUCKING OVER IT SOOOOOOOOO OVER IT. All of you, stay AWAY unless you’re going to be nice as heck to me. Or feed me ice cream. With windy palm trees and shit.
he was angry, you could almost see his heart beating too fast and sweat beginning to form on his forehead. We knew what was coming but that didn’t stop either of us from hoping that it wouldn’t be as bad as every other time. it was okay though, because no matter how bad things got with him, we had each other to mend the scars and cover the bruises.
My own violent tendencies start to scare me. It starts off as knocking over chairs and other items. I fear breaking something for the guilt that comes afterwards, but I am not myself in my anger. What if it gets worse? To breaking items, punching holes in walls, hurting people?
kathy put her hand over her face,gently tapping her eye patch with her index finger.she was not normally a violent woman.violence just seemed to find her.had she bore this into bogdan?
the violence i look at every day deals with the abuse i introduce to my moments with the hesitation i deliver myself from accomplishing the moment momentum that i yearn to begin swimming in…
She just stared ahead. He waved his hands in front of her eyes. “Hey. Hey! Listen to me.” She continued to just look ahead. “Hey! Why won’t you smile a little? You’ll look pretti–” Suddenly his jaw was smashed up into his cheek and he fell backwards. She had tears in her eyes.
The violent death that filled the fall was blinding. The blood stained the windows and walls. A chill of fear was left lingering in the room. They laid dead and left for him.
She wanted to paint the walls
a violent shade of crimson
though maroon or burgundy or
scarlet would do
so that the outside reflected
the sins of passion within
so that she might walk about
whole
sooo many things. i live in rio de janeiro and it is very violent here. robberies, corruption, murders! blood, stabbing, burning people alive, pulling their tongues out, i hate violence and these are the horrible thoughts that came to my head
This storm is violent. I can hear the rain slashing at the sides of the house and taping against the windows. Only moments before it was slashing at my skin, leaving stinging spots over my exposed skin. Damn umbrella, with its stupid duck face handle. I can envision exactly where I left it. Perched on the armrest of my friend Caitlin’s couch. Her cat will likely knock it off…seeing as that is his favorite perch. Safe and warm, curled up in a ball of fur, inside and out of this damned downpour. The t.v. on and voices laughing as someone cooks pasta and someone else watches Gurren Lagann or some shit. I finagle my key around the lock and manage to get the door open. I swing it forward with my fingertips. The lights are off and I’ve forgotten to shut the windows. I can hear the tap dripping just barely over the rain and the door groans as it swings slightly back towards me. I’d think my home would be more welcoming then the storm outside but I’m torn between standing here and getting soaked in this open space and walking into the empty box where I’m supposed to live.
The storm tossed the great ship to and fro across the sea. The waters slapped against it’s hull with a violent force that had the sailors wondering if it was the very wrath of God raining down on them.
Ivan stared at Cassandra. “The games that I like to play tend to get a bit violent. I highly doubt that you would be even slightly capable of keeping up with me.” He muttered lowly. “Understand?”
Cassandra scoffed in response to Ivan. “I like my play to be a bit on the violent side as well.”
An eye for an eye makes the world blind. Wise words, Gandi, but are they really true? If violence wasn’t the answer, then why are wars the cornerstone of human civilization? Why must we kill to survive? And where do we draw the line that separates humanity from violence? Or are the lines irrevocably blurred?
The violent explosion of purple that resulted from letting the lid off the can of paint made Amber wince. The magicians had been at it again. She gazed down at her hair and clothes, and sighed. The cleaning bill would be enormous, and of course none of them would pay it. It was unfair, the way they picked on the common folk these days. Just because they had magic…
Violence. It’s all over now. You can’t go anywhere without having to worry if someone will commit a random act of violence towards you. Why has humanity turned down this incerdibly dangerous route? Why do we hate one
fuck being violent i’m all for peace call me a hippie i don’t care its all about peace being violent doesn’t solve a damn thing so why even bother ya know? nah its easier being peaceful <3 try it sometime you'll see.
It was one wickedly violent night. It should have scared me as the wind was howling and lightening streaked across the sky. Yet I found it peaceful even as the rain fell and pelted my heated skin, I stood there calm. Needing the violence. Trusting it more than I trusted myself. I loved it.
vio
lent
i break it up. i spit it out. in my mouth, the word tastes bitter and its hard to chew.
“you must accept what you are” come the dronings of the psychiatrist. never mind her… if i can’t understand how i feel and can’t relate to it, then it isn’t me.
just because i pushed them down the stairs doesn’t make me… vi-oh-lent…
“that was unnecessary,” she whispered.
“yes. it was.” he nodded.
She walked away and he looked down at his bloodied hands and smiled,
“gorgeous.”
“Why Samantha, Why?” Samantha could not explain her ultra violence, her need to see bruises, to see blood. She adored violence as she adores Tommy, who was now laying on the floor covered with his own blood. “Why?” Tommy asked.
violent my love for you is violent unrelenting unsupressed unforgettable but that’s just it i want to forget you to move on to feel this way for someone else but i can’t because i’m trapped you’ve tamed me you’ve tamed my spirit my soul you’re refusal to love me is so violent
abuse violence rape sex murder life charles manson cult homesless racist uncontrolled hopeless hopefull streetart rebellion artwork beauty innerbeauty love lust
The pain seared through the veins, it pierced every vital organ in the body – it seemed. Nothing was spared, everything seemed to be in the midst of the brutality. Nothing was salvaged. Nothing. And he stood in the middle of it all, wondering where they went wrong. What did they do to endure so much pain.
There was a violent sound coming from the kitchen. A woman was screaming and her window was open wide enough to hear it all. She sounded possessed, but in an odd way. We stopped shooting the basketball to see what the commotion was and when we looked through her kitchen window we realized that we’d made a mistake.
She wasn’t being accosted like we’d assumed. She was screaming for joy.
Her boyfriend eyed us both and we scattered quicker than a pair of deer across the highway.
Violence is not encouraged. It should be stopped. Violent behavior in the house is something that should be nipped in the bud itself.
Violence is something that has never been an answer but then again that wasn’t a rule people actually lived by. “Violence isn’t the answer” is one of those rules that is taught until you know violence is wrong but once you understand its wrong then nobody enforces it. It might just be me but there is something wrong with that…
violence. is it all real. stop and think about it. Has anyone ever hurt you. the answer has tot be yes. is it? or were you the one who was violent
bullies. Are they violent? yes. sticks and stones will break my bones. words will hurt me.
Violence is a hard thing to describe. Does it come from anger? Lust? Pain? Lies, lies, lies. It’s all a lie and I can’t remember. Help me.
The human race… We hurt.. we kill… we fight for land and resources….
Listening to the news: apparently violent video games *can* lead to murder. I’ll believe it.
Violent violet. She’s someone I used to know and you can tell by her name that she’s someone you might not want to mess around with. She was serious about her violence. Breaking chairs was nothing to her.
and suddenly it swept over us, violent and unpredictable. it was like the moon had lost its control on the tides. they had rebelled. it was anarchy. and somewhere deep down inside us, we knew that we had lost control, too. we were unraveling, coming apart piece by piece, and falling into eachother.
violent storm inside
pulsing, pushing, trying to make its way out
I’m desperately holding onto what remains
trying to make sense of what I’m given
raw emotion in it’s simplest of terms:
love, hope, fear,
all in the mixture of a storm
Something that is scary. I just want to run from it. Violence is a bad thing and needs to be stopped. If there was no violence everyone would get along. Life would be much easier and everyone would be happier. Why is there so much violence and hatred in the world today? Why can’t people just put aside there differences and get along?
Something that is scary.
He thrashed out, smacking her in the face, the arms, the torso. And so she responded in the only way she knew how: she let out a high-pitched wail and then smacked him upside the head with her frying pan. He crumpled to the ground, and she sighed, then returned to making her pancakes.
It was hard. Being torn apart so quickly like that. Violent almost. Unfeeling and cold. Like it was from someone who had no feelings at all.
I REALLY DON’T EVEN WANT TO THINK ABOUT THINGS THAT ARE VIOLENT! There is way too much violence in the world to waste any of my, could be happy, thoughts on giving it my extra attention. That’s not to say that we shouldn’t ever think about violence. We should take a good long look at it and where it has gotten us on this planet. If everyone chose for just one moment in time to not be violent or seek violence or enjoy violence, perhaps there would be hope for a better world.
Perfect word today- I just feel like thrashing around and getting away from my house because srsly SO FUCKING OVER IT SOOOOOOOOO OVER IT. All of you, stay AWAY unless you’re going to be nice as heck to me. Or feed me ice cream. With windy palm trees and shit.
he was angry, you could almost see his heart beating too fast and sweat beginning to form on his forehead. We knew what was coming but that didn’t stop either of us from hoping that it wouldn’t be as bad as every other time. it was okay though, because no matter how bad things got with him, we had each other to mend the scars and cover the bruises.
My own violent tendencies start to scare me. It starts off as knocking over chairs and other items. I fear breaking something for the guilt that comes afterwards, but I am not myself in my anger. What if it gets worse? To breaking items, punching holes in walls, hurting people?
kathy put her hand over her face,gently tapping her eye patch with her index finger.she was not normally a violent woman.violence just seemed to find her.had she bore this into bogdan?
the violence i look at every day deals with the abuse i introduce to my moments with the hesitation i deliver myself from accomplishing the moment momentum that i yearn to begin swimming in…
She just stared ahead. He waved his hands in front of her eyes. “Hey. Hey! Listen to me.” She continued to just look ahead. “Hey! Why won’t you smile a little? You’ll look pretti–” Suddenly his jaw was smashed up into his cheek and he fell backwards. She had tears in her eyes.
The violent death that filled the fall was blinding. The blood stained the windows and walls. A chill of fear was left lingering in the room. They laid dead and left for him.
She wanted to paint the walls
a violent shade of crimson
though maroon or burgundy or
scarlet would do
so that the outside reflected
the sins of passion within
so that she might walk about
whole
sooo many things. i live in rio de janeiro and it is very violent here. robberies, corruption, murders! blood, stabbing, burning people alive, pulling their tongues out, i hate violence and these are the horrible thoughts that came to my head
This storm is violent. I can hear the rain slashing at the sides of the house and taping against the windows. Only moments before it was slashing at my skin, leaving stinging spots over my exposed skin. Damn umbrella, with its stupid duck face handle. I can envision exactly where I left it. Perched on the armrest of my friend Caitlin’s couch. Her cat will likely knock it off…seeing as that is his favorite perch. Safe and warm, curled up in a ball of fur, inside and out of this damned downpour. The t.v. on and voices laughing as someone cooks pasta and someone else watches Gurren Lagann or some shit. I finagle my key around the lock and manage to get the door open. I swing it forward with my fingertips. The lights are off and I’ve forgotten to shut the windows. I can hear the tap dripping just barely over the rain and the door groans as it swings slightly back towards me. I’d think my home would be more welcoming then the storm outside but I’m torn between standing here and getting soaked in this open space and walking into the empty box where I’m supposed to live.
The storm tossed the great ship to and fro across the sea. The waters slapped against it’s hull with a violent force that had the sailors wondering if it was the very wrath of God raining down on them.
Ivan stared at Cassandra. “The games that I like to play tend to get a bit violent. I highly doubt that you would be even slightly capable of keeping up with me.” He muttered lowly. “Understand?”
Cassandra scoffed in response to Ivan. “I like my play to be a bit on the violent side as well.”
An eye for an eye makes the world blind. Wise words, Gandi, but are they really true? If violence wasn’t the answer, then why are wars the cornerstone of human civilization? Why must we kill to survive? And where do we draw the line that separates humanity from violence? Or are the lines irrevocably blurred?
The violent explosion of purple that resulted from letting the lid off the can of paint made Amber wince. The magicians had been at it again. She gazed down at her hair and clothes, and sighed. The cleaning bill would be enormous, and of course none of them would pay it. It was unfair, the way they picked on the common folk these days. Just because they had magic…
evil, frustration, and act of hostility. Not necessary. creepy, scary and hurtful. Fear
Violence. It’s all over now. You can’t go anywhere without having to worry if someone will commit a random act of violence towards you. Why has humanity turned down this incerdibly dangerous route? Why do we hate one
fuck being violent i’m all for peace call me a hippie i don’t care its all about peace being violent doesn’t solve a damn thing so why even bother ya know? nah its easier being peaceful <3 try it sometime you'll see.
It was one wickedly violent night. It should have scared me as the wind was howling and lightening streaked across the sky. Yet I found it peaceful even as the rain fell and pelted my heated skin, I stood there calm. Needing the violence. Trusting it more than I trusted myself. I loved it.