Simba looked across the kingdom that he had once expected to be his. “What happened?”
The hienas took over after you left.” Nala told him.
His sad gaze turned into a look of determination as he realized what he needed to do.
Wasteland. The land that is waste. Wasteland is not just the place where there is trash on this earth. It is a place where the trash of your mind exists. The place where unwanted feelings go and the place where you don’t want to visit. A wasteland is filled with things long forgotten. Some things good, some things bad. Wasteland.
Lost. forbidden, lost to an ancient time, and possessing mysteries of travesties past. impossible to tell what was once there, what was destroyed and by what power and by whom. what, perhaps. doesn’t matter anymore. irrelevant. just a piece of wasted space.
The company marched forward through the desolation they didnt really have any idea where they were going they just knew they had to keep moving, their pursuers werent far behind
They looked around them and all they saw was wreckage. Everything was broken, burnt, or destroyed in some tragic way. They were at a loss for words as they took it all in…
thin
My life is a teenage wasteland. I’m living in a mess. I don’t know who I am or where I’ve been, definitely not where I’m going. I hate who I am. I hate myself. I’m ugly. I’m fat. I belong in this wasteland. I can’t do this anymore. I might just cry. I cut myself. I cry myself to sleep. Help me. Save me. Protect me. Love me. I need this. I need you. I need love.
The wasteland….there wasn’t much to describe about the wasteland. the word ‘wasteland’ kind of sums it up. there was nothing but a few scattered bones, and an horrible smell. Imagine the worst smell you have ever smelled and multiply that by….7… and you would have this smell.
rotting wasteland sitting in a base pan
crying to my face man
he just wants attention
so sick it’s like addiction
fishing is his affliction
itching cause he’s missin
positive attention
but oh i didn’t mention
he’s bleeding from the waist man
sinking in his wasteland
Dream about it again. Land where is nobody there. Land that full of desert. And color of the sand is black. The wind blow through me and the weather is so dam hot.
everything seemed so clean. when you thought of the end of the world, this isn’t what you imagined. there were no bodies on the streets, no crashed cars. hell, it looked cleaner now than it had when people LIVED here.
Teenage destruction taking over streets. Feathers in your hair and sand underneath the covers. Insomnia. Rise against and don’t give up. Sacrifice. Love and freedom beyond anything.
she knew simplicity. she said her life was ruined the moment she began breathing, or maybe before then, in the womb, when her brain stumbles into its first moments of functioning with no celebration, no ceremony, no notice; the way she wanted her birth.
she had only wanted to become a wasteland, an emptiness, a blankness that was physical and could envelop her body wholly;
she wrote her epitaph when she was seven:
feed. that book we had to read in chl 455 about what the world will become. and how it’s turning into such a wasteland. even the ocean is purple and everyone has to wear a suit to be by it. no more waves. teenage wasteland. that song by the who that introduces a csi. i can’t remember which one. all we are is teenage wasteland.
All around him is a wasteland, dusty and dry. It’s his mind; he’s trapped in his own head, searching for meaning. He needs water to quench the drought of his inspiration but he finds none. Until he digs deep into the ground and finds her, glowing with everything he’s tried so hard to repress. She comes to him– he no longer stops her– and when he wakes he rushes for pen and paper to capture the torrent of words streaming from the dam she’s broken.
WASTE KAND is a land where more people die before the age of 18, meaning that their sperm goes to waste nad that the women become more outnumbering them and then the trive has a curve of vanishing that is closer to a dog’s one. but the weird thing is when a women gives birth in this tribe, its almsot always 8 babies at a time
There is a vast wasteland called television, which I can get drawn into in ways that are really regretful. But on the other hand, I have been able to relax, learn, laugh, and have some really amazing times watching some quite extraordinary TV shows, so I guess the question is, am I the boss of my TV experience or not. Usually, yes!
dry crackling skies make you wish you’d cut your hair when they offered you the knife. your hair floats all around you and so does the dust; you walk on air and breathe in mother earth and it builds up in your lungs, makes you cough, makes you wish you’d taken the knife, but it didn’t matter anyway, did it? they all dried up, died up, in the end, hacking up dirt and shit and sand and it was a Wasteland, indeed.
looking at him was like looking out in to a vast wasteland. He had nothing to say. He claimed that he disliked confrontation. So, instead of standing up for his wife, his baby and what she wanted for them, he just stared into his own blank mind.
Johney looked around but there was nothing left of earth his former races home, it was a wasteland deserted and un habitable because of the nuclear war years previously .. still maybe in a nother hundred years humans can once again start a new.
This school is a wasteland. So suffocated with bad memories and bad people. I hate how we all just rot. Rot in everything it stands for, its walls, its rules, its misinterpretation of what we call expression, they just confine us to what their world wants to see, making us all turn into dark inhabitants in the wasteland they’ve created. I want to be a human again.
Wasteland, that’s all it was now. Barren, nothing, inhabited by only a silly, empty woman sitting next to a silly, empty man. She sighed as she closed her eyes, blocking out the view of her former home; then, lifting her startling green eyes to the sky, she ran.
wasteland.
where no one knows who you are
where you came from
what you do
how much you make
nobody is no one
i am you
as we are none
a wasteland
is a utopia
and hell
depends on who you are
there is a wasteland full of waste
its not full of bad things but things that ive learned and things that are not being put to use but i will come back to this land when i’ve used all i can of the once useful things and dispose of them to come and grab a handful of waste and beautiful things make them new discoveries that will be used and not used just to be used again. this waste is one thing that can be thrown away and picked back up and think that nothing is really garbage.
wasteland, dry dust, hollow skulls with scorpion tongues, with cactus hands grasping for the sun, a cluster of long-dried root clusters cuddled in one of its sockets, an eternity of sand in its pockets.
The wasteland was empty. How else would it be? There was some rubble and ash and a few burnt tree stumps. At some point the roads had melted and spilled over. It looked like a black river.
We walked a million and five miles to The Territory. Through a baren wasteland of a million thoughts. We wasted fuel and layed waste to fuels. Our large feet
I am in a vast expanse of endless nothingness. It is here and there and I am it and we are together in this place of nothing and everything and waste and fulfillment. It is the air and the water all at once, filling my lungs anf fulfilling my purpose and I am it and it is me and we are together here, falling through the air and the sea all around me. Drowning, falling, forever together in the wonderful nothing that we are.
sad devoid of things lost sad upset lonely why always alone what can i do when i feel alone how do i cope with the emptiness i dont want to explain it to my friends because i dont want them to feel depressed for me i want to be held and comforted by someone
The wasteland is a wonderful place. It’s a place where society’s refuse is taken and vomited into the land, where the world expels every bit of loathing and hatred, and shit that it’s accumulated over it’s years of life, and the wasteland, that philanthropic god, accepts everything without judgement.
MY LIFE.
my heart feels like a wasteland too
like it’s been trampled on
and for years
and years
all the crap that no one wants
gets dumped into it
my mind is a wasteland
filled with painful thoughts
stupid thoughts
useless thoughts
hurting thoughts
i am a wasteland
In the quiet winter, the desert wasteland appeared almost beautiful. Almost. “Where is a goddamned tree when you need one,” I thought. “A cactus even! Water…”
wasteland creates the burden of society. It should be angelsland, but it was spoiled to get to the other end of useful happiness. There is too much nonsense involve.
wasteland, what is wasteland? I believe it is land for waste, as the name implies. When all the waste in a city is collected it is taken to this waste land. Then some are recycle, some form compost or are buried underground. So, that is my belief of what wasteland is.
we can call human society a wasteland. a dirty wasteland. one filled with narrow minded human beings and unrelenting evil. it’ll be okay though. because most often then not, every human being is evil.
teenage wasteland always reminds me of csi new york. god i hate that show. i watched it for years and i have no idea why. every time they made a joke i almost threw up. but yeah um, good song.
there is a baren wasteland in the middle of nowhere. no where particularly interesting of course. but it is about to be filled with broken fridges. not to mention broken dreams and promises. a wasteland.
Simba looked across the kingdom that he had once expected to be his. “What happened?”
The hienas took over after you left.” Nala told him.
His sad gaze turned into a look of determination as he realized what he needed to do.
sludge filled wasteland. Little lizards that camouflage with everything they touch. Poisoned by pollution.
Wasteland. The land that is waste. Wasteland is not just the place where there is trash on this earth. It is a place where the trash of your mind exists. The place where unwanted feelings go and the place where you don’t want to visit. A wasteland is filled with things long forgotten. Some things good, some things bad. Wasteland.
Lost. forbidden, lost to an ancient time, and possessing mysteries of travesties past. impossible to tell what was once there, what was destroyed and by what power and by whom. what, perhaps. doesn’t matter anymore. irrelevant. just a piece of wasted space.
The company marched forward through the desolation they didnt really have any idea where they were going they just knew they had to keep moving, their pursuers werent far behind
His brain had been alcohol soaked for decades, a sponge of disconnected, derelict, brain waves, a wasteland, barren of cognitive thought.
They looked around them and all they saw was wreckage. Everything was broken, burnt, or destroyed in some tragic way. They were at a loss for words as they took it all in…
thin
My life is a teenage wasteland. I’m living in a mess. I don’t know who I am or where I’ve been, definitely not where I’m going. I hate who I am. I hate myself. I’m ugly. I’m fat. I belong in this wasteland. I can’t do this anymore. I might just cry. I cut myself. I cry myself to sleep. Help me. Save me. Protect me. Love me. I need this. I need you. I need love.
The wasteland….there wasn’t much to describe about the wasteland. the word ‘wasteland’ kind of sums it up. there was nothing but a few scattered bones, and an horrible smell. Imagine the worst smell you have ever smelled and multiply that by….7… and you would have this smell.
rotting wasteland sitting in a base pan
crying to my face man
he just wants attention
so sick it’s like addiction
fishing is his affliction
itching cause he’s missin
positive attention
but oh i didn’t mention
he’s bleeding from the waist man
sinking in his wasteland
Dream about it again. Land where is nobody there. Land that full of desert. And color of the sand is black. The wind blow through me and the weather is so dam hot.
everything seemed so clean. when you thought of the end of the world, this isn’t what you imagined. there were no bodies on the streets, no crashed cars. hell, it looked cleaner now than it had when people LIVED here.
Teenage destruction taking over streets. Feathers in your hair and sand underneath the covers. Insomnia. Rise against and don’t give up. Sacrifice. Love and freedom beyond anything.
we are all deserts at birth.
she knew simplicity. she said her life was ruined the moment she began breathing, or maybe before then, in the womb, when her brain stumbles into its first moments of functioning with no celebration, no ceremony, no notice; the way she wanted her birth.
she had only wanted to become a wasteland, an emptiness, a blankness that was physical and could envelop her body wholly;
she wrote her epitaph when she was seven:
I’ll miss the sunflower seeds.
feed. that book we had to read in chl 455 about what the world will become. and how it’s turning into such a wasteland. even the ocean is purple and everyone has to wear a suit to be by it. no more waves. teenage wasteland. that song by the who that introduces a csi. i can’t remember which one. all we are is teenage wasteland.
All around him is a wasteland, dusty and dry. It’s his mind; he’s trapped in his own head, searching for meaning. He needs water to quench the drought of his inspiration but he finds none. Until he digs deep into the ground and finds her, glowing with everything he’s tried so hard to repress. She comes to him– he no longer stops her– and when he wakes he rushes for pen and paper to capture the torrent of words streaming from the dam she’s broken.
WASTE KAND is a land where more people die before the age of 18, meaning that their sperm goes to waste nad that the women become more outnumbering them and then the trive has a curve of vanishing that is closer to a dog’s one. but the weird thing is when a women gives birth in this tribe, its almsot always 8 babies at a time
There is a vast wasteland called television, which I can get drawn into in ways that are really regretful. But on the other hand, I have been able to relax, learn, laugh, and have some really amazing times watching some quite extraordinary TV shows, so I guess the question is, am I the boss of my TV experience or not. Usually, yes!
dry crackling skies make you wish you’d cut your hair when they offered you the knife. your hair floats all around you and so does the dust; you walk on air and breathe in mother earth and it builds up in your lungs, makes you cough, makes you wish you’d taken the knife, but it didn’t matter anyway, did it? they all dried up, died up, in the end, hacking up dirt and shit and sand and it was a Wasteland, indeed.
looking at him was like looking out in to a vast wasteland. He had nothing to say. He claimed that he disliked confrontation. So, instead of standing up for his wife, his baby and what she wanted for them, he just stared into his own blank mind.
Johney looked around but there was nothing left of earth his former races home, it was a wasteland deserted and un habitable because of the nuclear war years previously .. still maybe in a nother hundred years humans can once again start a new.
This school is a wasteland. So suffocated with bad memories and bad people. I hate how we all just rot. Rot in everything it stands for, its walls, its rules, its misinterpretation of what we call expression, they just confine us to what their world wants to see, making us all turn into dark inhabitants in the wasteland they’ve created. I want to be a human again.
Wasteland, that’s all it was now. Barren, nothing, inhabited by only a silly, empty woman sitting next to a silly, empty man. She sighed as she closed her eyes, blocking out the view of her former home; then, lifting her startling green eyes to the sky, she ran.
wasteland.
where no one knows who you are
where you came from
what you do
how much you make
nobody is no one
i am you
as we are none
a wasteland
is a utopia
and hell
depends on who you are
there is a wasteland full of waste
its not full of bad things but things that ive learned and things that are not being put to use but i will come back to this land when i’ve used all i can of the once useful things and dispose of them to come and grab a handful of waste and beautiful things make them new discoveries that will be used and not used just to be used again. this waste is one thing that can be thrown away and picked back up and think that nothing is really garbage.
wasteland, dry dust, hollow skulls with scorpion tongues, with cactus hands grasping for the sun, a cluster of long-dried root clusters cuddled in one of its sockets, an eternity of sand in its pockets.
The wasteland was empty. How else would it be? There was some rubble and ash and a few burnt tree stumps. At some point the roads had melted and spilled over. It looked like a black river.
We walked a million and five miles to The Territory. Through a baren wasteland of a million thoughts. We wasted fuel and layed waste to fuels. Our large feet
I am in a vast expanse of endless nothingness. It is here and there and I am it and we are together in this place of nothing and everything and waste and fulfillment. It is the air and the water all at once, filling my lungs anf fulfilling my purpose and I am it and it is me and we are together here, falling through the air and the sea all around me. Drowning, falling, forever together in the wonderful nothing that we are.
sad devoid of things lost sad upset lonely why always alone what can i do when i feel alone how do i cope with the emptiness i dont want to explain it to my friends because i dont want them to feel depressed for me i want to be held and comforted by someone
The wasteland is a wonderful place. It’s a place where society’s refuse is taken and vomited into the land, where the world expels every bit of loathing and hatred, and shit that it’s accumulated over it’s years of life, and the wasteland, that philanthropic god, accepts everything without judgement.
MY LIFE.
my heart feels like a wasteland too
like it’s been trampled on
and for years
and years
all the crap that no one wants
gets dumped into it
my mind is a wasteland
filled with painful thoughts
stupid thoughts
useless thoughts
hurting thoughts
i am a wasteland
In the quiet winter, the desert wasteland appeared almost beautiful. Almost. “Where is a goddamned tree when you need one,” I thought. “A cactus even! Water…”
wasteland creates the burden of society. It should be angelsland, but it was spoiled to get to the other end of useful happiness. There is too much nonsense involve.
We stood on the barren wasteland, smiling.
Destructive, we are.
In love, we are.
“Fantastic,” I say to her. She smiles back and nods.
We hold hands.
We walk away from the sandbox proud, woodchips under our feet.
wasteland, what is wasteland? I believe it is land for waste, as the name implies. When all the waste in a city is collected it is taken to this waste land. Then some are recycle, some form compost or are buried underground. So, that is my belief of what wasteland is.
we can call human society a wasteland. a dirty wasteland. one filled with narrow minded human beings and unrelenting evil. it’ll be okay though. because most often then not, every human being is evil.
teenage wasteland always reminds me of csi new york. god i hate that show. i watched it for years and i have no idea why. every time they made a joke i almost threw up. but yeah um, good song.
there is a baren wasteland in the middle of nowhere. no where particularly interesting of course. but it is about to be filled with broken fridges. not to mention broken dreams and promises. a wasteland.
A dirty filthy place, wasted away. Possibly a deserted area with crooked, old trees and garbage lying around.