as you bit back my tongue withered.
I was not expecting that retort
Ive gone from saint to sinner.
Its easy to flip tables
when you don’t care who gets hurt
It started about you but now I’m the jerk.
This will not wither. In a way I see him as a lamb, a lion, a trickster who could stand to be more disciplined, focused, and confident in his natural gifts, which are as potent as the shadows that play across his bottom lip. And he’s my drug of choice whenever he chooses to arm himself with determination and purpose.
It reminds me of all the moments in life that go unnoticed, the hopes and dreams not acted on, only wanted. It never seems to bloom, life. Only get halfway there, then wither.
While the churches of the world withered, his temples grew. Each one empty, but for the star hanging inside. Empty, with no one to see it. Empty, like the desert where he found the child and the seed.
The plane is coming down now, and all around, the pirates are landing, each one a blazing star that commemorates the day he first had the idea.
The ground was so dry, parched and dusty grey. Nothing could grow on that soil. The earth cracked as creatures, both big and small pounded their paws across the surface. Plants desperately clawed for purchase, but eventually gave up and withered.
I don’t understand people who commit suicide. I understand wanting to stop the stress, the pressure, the pain, or whatever else it may be that makes them feel so awful. But to want to outright end their lives, and end any chances of future happiness? I can’t understand. Right now I can feel my self control withering, as the realization of how god-awfully ill-prepared I am for this stage in my life hits me like a bus, leaving me sobbing and broken-feeling. Yet the thought of suicide doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest. Perhaps I have not yet felt the emotional trauma that a suicidal person experiences, and I hope I never will. But for now, the only thing keeping me going is the thought of all of this ending, at some point in the future, when I can finally start doing what I really want to do.
You withered to a groin and wept with wonder. I slept curled around your teeth, a radical posture in motion. The dampness of shadowlight swam to you, into your bones as reflections. I lit a fireplace and fell into it with surrender of you, we embered into the guttering as dust. You withered away to nothing, I was nothing before you and away from … away from more the same.
don’t go out the
it’s an estranged work
one not for the like of us
it kills those organic
in nature and sound
keeps us sick a withered
among the damned
down-trotted the man walked away from his house in the distance. He didn’t every want to return there again the agony and hostile fate that centered the place made him feel withered
This, this one simple word described their relationship. They had lost all the magic that they once shared. Friends who could talk and laugh about anything, now cannot even speak. It ended abruptly without reason—what was once tall and strong like a tree of summer is now only withered like trees of winter…
Her hands were withered, frail and often shaking. They hurt, but she didn’t like to complain. No, she took pride in being the strongest, even now, even here. Her eyes, which were once a bright blue, seemed to be fading, but her spirit was not.
An old apple sat lonely at the bottom of his wastebasket. The once plump skin withered away to a brown husk. He hadn’t cleaned in a month. Not since Sheila left. He really was helpless without her. Pathetic
She forgot to water them again.
They littered the carpet pathetically,
scattered by some half-hearted design.
A commercial came on for Miracle Gro.
Head falls forward in dejection.
As we grow old, we wilt, wither, age. It may scare some people, but to me it does no such thing. To me, people are like wine, the more you age, the more you become better.
And, with time, the feeling withers and dies. Like a shedding snake, it leaves behind a wispy piece of itself. But the snake is no more, and even its shadow fades to make room for the sunlight.
Through the withered leaves detaching from the tree and floating away I saw the strong scaffolding of branches. Clouds were scudding along forming striped trails in as they hurtled across the sky. On the grass leaves had been raked into high piles but the new leaves fell in tessellating patterns on the path at my feet, crackling as I walked over this bonfire of colours.
The grapes withered on the vine, untended, uncared for, left to rot. There would be no wine this season, or any other. The master of the house had died. There was no one left.
You’re the same woman who you used to be, all those years ago, and even that little girl, still, but all they see when they walk by is an old woman, now, one with hands that are as twisted as the roots of the tree outside your porch.
You are still the same woman who you used to be, all those years ago, and still when these boys walk by, they throw taunts and they throw jeers, and they mime speaking, but you have had more years of practice not listening than they have had in loving with all their withered little hearts.
Kayla glanced at the beautiful flowers that were blooming in her brightly colored garden. She contiued to walk on the stone path, her light pink summer dress flowing around her legs in the cool breeze. She glanced down to see some whithered Morning Glories, she smiled and ran to grab her watering can, she filled it with cool water and poured it over the blue flowers and watched them stand up straight and bloom even large than before. And she said: “With a little love and kindness we all can blossom.”
I withered in pain. I wish they could here me talk but alas they cannot. I am just sitting here staring, like a bumbling idiot. Like everyone else. sitting here trying to please insipid fools that think being aloof is cool, its not cool and never will be. I prefer neon tights to you. Goddamn i wish i could get out of this place. I feel like its sucking me in and out and all around and I can’t escape it. I wait till the last minute to do things because i feel like if i wait i’ll perfect it and that isn’t possible. why wait for the impossible? It doesn’t make sense.
The leaves withered when the cold came. They died and fell.
In a few months time when winter is finished, more will replace them.
They too, will wither and fall like the ones before.
květina, vztah, všechno skončilo špatně, zvadlo, je šlus, máš utrum, padáka, proto se cítíš zvadle, ještě něco? Zvadni! Zvadl hned navečer.už vím, že jsi zvadlý! jsi jako čert a slepice zvadlej a vadnej. proč jsi mi zvadl až dnes? chceš něco dodat? propříště nebuť zvadlý.
and you dreamt.
something sweet and warm, the corner of your lip tugged upward, and i held your hand
and you were loved
in complete comfort, the fulfilled purpose of the universe
The frail old man looked at the withered tree. He’d planted it long ago with his father, now laid to rest below its barren branches. His life was fading out, memories disappearing along with the colors of the once vibrant monolith before him.
I would have loved to have faded away
Many times
Love is such a mighty thing
Wisping hot air in my direction
Singing my hair to handfuls of dust
Keeping me warm
It hurt…
But, oh, it makes me stay
Because, oh, it means you’re giving me
All that you can
You caught me where the stalk was green
Doesn’t matter all that withered
I would have loved to have faded away
Many times
Love is such a mighty thing
Wisping hot air in my direction
Singing my hair to handfuls of dust
Keeping me warm
It hurt…
But, oh, it makes me stay
Because, oh, it means you’re giving me
All that you can
She had bangs and only wore solid colors. I thought of a girl that I went to high school with, a girl that, standing next to her, made me feel obnoxious even when I wasn’t saying anything. I felt my existence pushing out on the surrounding space. She looked like a drying flower; withered.
The withered leaves on the floor. They reminded me of that day. The day the sun didn’t come out. The day everything was dull. Grey. Alone. That day was the day he died. That day was the day I lost him. And because of that, I’m a different woman. I’m a changed woman.
The withered pages seemed to greet her; fingers meeting them with more familiarity than a mere stranger. The yellowing pages were all she could ever need.
This definitely wasn’t her idea of the all-powerful and frightening seer. She was old and withered, her back hunched and her left eye cloudy and gray with blindness, while her other was darker than the night sky. The seer smiled at her as she entered the room that smelled of incense, a smile that revealed missing teeth.
My heart is withered at the moment. I am at a loss for words. But I am hopeful, and positive. I know whatever is supposed to happen will happen. Love will find a way to exist in all circumstances. Everything will be ok.
The withered flowers hung limply in their vase, a stark reminder of what once was. I remembered what life was like when there was life. When there was color and laughter and tears. Now the land was just a barren landscape filled with deathly pale shades.
as you bit back my tongue withered.
I was not expecting that retort
Ive gone from saint to sinner.
Its easy to flip tables
when you don’t care who gets hurt
It started about you but now I’m the jerk.
This will not wither. In a way I see him as a lamb, a lion, a trickster who could stand to be more disciplined, focused, and confident in his natural gifts, which are as potent as the shadows that play across his bottom lip. And he’s my drug of choice whenever he chooses to arm himself with determination and purpose.
It reminds me of all the moments in life that go unnoticed, the hopes and dreams not acted on, only wanted. It never seems to bloom, life. Only get halfway there, then wither.
Sometimes I just feel so withered.
While the churches of the world withered, his temples grew. Each one empty, but for the star hanging inside. Empty, with no one to see it. Empty, like the desert where he found the child and the seed.
The plane is coming down now, and all around, the pirates are landing, each one a blazing star that commemorates the day he first had the idea.
(FF of Magnason’s LoveStar? Sure!)
The ground was so dry, parched and dusty grey. Nothing could grow on that soil. The earth cracked as creatures, both big and small pounded their paws across the surface. Plants desperately clawed for purchase, but eventually gave up and withered.
I don’t understand people who commit suicide. I understand wanting to stop the stress, the pressure, the pain, or whatever else it may be that makes them feel so awful. But to want to outright end their lives, and end any chances of future happiness? I can’t understand. Right now I can feel my self control withering, as the realization of how god-awfully ill-prepared I am for this stage in my life hits me like a bus, leaving me sobbing and broken-feeling. Yet the thought of suicide doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest. Perhaps I have not yet felt the emotional trauma that a suicidal person experiences, and I hope I never will. But for now, the only thing keeping me going is the thought of all of this ending, at some point in the future, when I can finally start doing what I really want to do.
You withered to a groin and wept with wonder. I slept curled around your teeth, a radical posture in motion. The dampness of shadowlight swam to you, into your bones as reflections. I lit a fireplace and fell into it with surrender of you, we embered into the guttering as dust. You withered away to nothing, I was nothing before you and away from … away from more the same.
don’t go out the
it’s an estranged work
one not for the like of us
it kills those organic
in nature and sound
keeps us sick a withered
among the damned
down-trotted the man walked away from his house in the distance. He didn’t every want to return there again the agony and hostile fate that centered the place made him feel withered
Her withered hands caressed my face as we sat nestled against one another, hoping to beat the moon to bed.
This, this one simple word described their relationship. They had lost all the magic that they once shared. Friends who could talk and laugh about anything, now cannot even speak. It ended abruptly without reason—what was once tall and strong like a tree of summer is now only withered like trees of winter…
Her hands were withered, frail and often shaking. They hurt, but she didn’t like to complain. No, she took pride in being the strongest, even now, even here. Her eyes, which were once a bright blue, seemed to be fading, but her spirit was not.
An old apple sat lonely at the bottom of his wastebasket. The once plump skin withered away to a brown husk. He hadn’t cleaned in a month. Not since Sheila left. He really was helpless without her. Pathetic
She forgot to water them again.
They littered the carpet pathetically,
scattered by some half-hearted design.
A commercial came on for Miracle Gro.
Head falls forward in dejection.
As we grow old, we wilt, wither, age. It may scare some people, but to me it does no such thing. To me, people are like wine, the more you age, the more you become better.
my nature hasn’t withered
like a cliche,
like a rose petal edged black.
I’m marked
with shimmery, nude scales
and I wholly intend on keeping them.
And, with time, the feeling withers and dies. Like a shedding snake, it leaves behind a wispy piece of itself. But the snake is no more, and even its shadow fades to make room for the sunlight.
Through the withered leaves detaching from the tree and floating away I saw the strong scaffolding of branches. Clouds were scudding along forming striped trails in as they hurtled across the sky. On the grass leaves had been raked into high piles but the new leaves fell in tessellating patterns on the path at my feet, crackling as I walked over this bonfire of colours.
The grapes withered on the vine, untended, uncared for, left to rot. There would be no wine this season, or any other. The master of the house had died. There was no one left.
You’re the same woman who you used to be, all those years ago, and even that little girl, still, but all they see when they walk by is an old woman, now, one with hands that are as twisted as the roots of the tree outside your porch.
You are still the same woman who you used to be, all those years ago, and still when these boys walk by, they throw taunts and they throw jeers, and they mime speaking, but you have had more years of practice not listening than they have had in loving with all their withered little hearts.
My thoughts, mind and body feel, but do not look withered.
Kayla glanced at the beautiful flowers that were blooming in her brightly colored garden. She contiued to walk on the stone path, her light pink summer dress flowing around her legs in the cool breeze. She glanced down to see some whithered Morning Glories, she smiled and ran to grab her watering can, she filled it with cool water and poured it over the blue flowers and watched them stand up straight and bloom even large than before. And she said: “With a little love and kindness we all can blossom.”
I withered in pain. I wish they could here me talk but alas they cannot. I am just sitting here staring, like a bumbling idiot. Like everyone else. sitting here trying to please insipid fools that think being aloof is cool, its not cool and never will be. I prefer neon tights to you. Goddamn i wish i could get out of this place. I feel like its sucking me in and out and all around and I can’t escape it. I wait till the last minute to do things because i feel like if i wait i’ll perfect it and that isn’t possible. why wait for the impossible? It doesn’t make sense.
The leaves withered when the cold came. They died and fell.
In a few months time when winter is finished, more will replace them.
They too, will wither and fall like the ones before.
květina, vztah, všechno skončilo špatně, zvadlo, je šlus, máš utrum, padáka, proto se cítíš zvadle, ještě něco? Zvadni! Zvadl hned navečer.už vím, že jsi zvadlý! jsi jako čert a slepice zvadlej a vadnej. proč jsi mi zvadl až dnes? chceš něco dodat? propříště nebuť zvadlý.
and you dreamt.
something sweet and warm, the corner of your lip tugged upward, and i held your hand
and you were loved
in complete comfort, the fulfilled purpose of the universe
The frail old man looked at the withered tree. He’d planted it long ago with his father, now laid to rest below its barren branches. His life was fading out, memories disappearing along with the colors of the once vibrant monolith before him.
I would have loved to have faded away
Many times
Love is such a mighty thing
Wisping hot air in my direction
Singing my hair to handfuls of dust
Keeping me warm
It hurt…
But, oh, it makes me stay
Because, oh, it means you’re giving me
All that you can
You caught me where the stalk was green
Doesn’t matter all that withered
I would have loved to have faded away
Many times
Love is such a mighty thing
Wisping hot air in my direction
Singing my hair to handfuls of dust
Keeping me warm
It hurt…
But, oh, it makes me stay
Because, oh, it means you’re giving me
All that you can
Electric pain bolted up my leg. I could feel my
She had bangs and only wore solid colors. I thought of a girl that I went to high school with, a girl that, standing next to her, made me feel obnoxious even when I wasn’t saying anything. I felt my existence pushing out on the surrounding space. She looked like a drying flower; withered.
The withered leaves on the floor. They reminded me of that day. The day the sun didn’t come out. The day everything was dull. Grey. Alone. That day was the day he died. That day was the day I lost him. And because of that, I’m a different woman. I’m a changed woman.
The withered look the trees in the clearing felt ominous and the bright sunlight bathed the dying all around her in a cold breeze.
What was happening?
Withered leaves. With red books i leap. The withered texture is symbolic of withering age of wrinkles. An old lady. with-e-red.
The withered pages seemed to greet her; fingers meeting them with more familiarity than a mere stranger. The yellowing pages were all she could ever need.
This definitely wasn’t her idea of the all-powerful and frightening seer. She was old and withered, her back hunched and her left eye cloudy and gray with blindness, while her other was darker than the night sky. The seer smiled at her as she entered the room that smelled of incense, a smile that revealed missing teeth.
My heart is withered at the moment. I am at a loss for words. But I am hopeful, and positive. I know whatever is supposed to happen will happen. Love will find a way to exist in all circumstances. Everything will be ok.
Old tree, branches withered, lifeless. Shrivelled up, no life, of no use, old.
The withered flowers hung limply in their vase, a stark reminder of what once was. I remembered what life was like when there was life. When there was color and laughter and tears. Now the land was just a barren landscape filled with deathly pale shades.