sign up or log in for additional features. (It's free!)
There wasn’t a damn thing worth keeping here. Just toss everything into a bot, throw it to the curb. Don’t let a soul think you were disturbing the bones of some dusty house.
You weren’t doing anything terrible, anyway.
It was a wasteland when you got here, it will be a less cluttered one when you leave. At least it might be up to fire code. Whichever.
You don’t really know why you are here anyway.
By Eddie Currant on 04.30.2014
Corpses filled the land from his feet to the horizon. The bloody sunset reflected down on the crimson-stained ground upon which the battle took place. This is what war is. This is how you desolate.
By Deepak URL on 04.30.2014
left like door hinges:
rusting, and squeaky…
I wish I’d had the common
sense to just close myself
and never come out again.
By Pandatry URL on 04.30.2014
desolate… barren, laid-waste, but not empty. not nothingness. as long as there is something, and I need something to call it desolate, I can connect. There is never nothing. I can always find something with which to connect. desolate, but never hopeless.
By Brewer Bill on 04.30.2014
Her eyes swept over to the broken-glass rocks jutting from the desolate shoreline like rows upon rows of terrible teeth. Thunder crashed.
The sand dunes shook, and so did she.
By WearyWater URL on 05.01.2014
So many thoughts.
All of them desolate.
Maybe I always think about you when you’re gone.
By Intuition URL on 05.01.2014
It was hard to go about the daily business of life knowing what was happening on the other side of the world. Wrapped in a heavy coat I sat motionless inside a temperamental hire car, in a desolate car park in a small village in Scotland as my worst fears arrived in a text message. Five years. Just two words and the sinking of hope.
By bb333 URL on 05.01.2014
its is the dead of night. a brisk wind blows and picks up leaves, throwing them into your face. The concrete beneath your feet is cold and you lack of shoes therefore poses an imminent problem. The richoty train tracks squeak and squeal as the run down and dusty train pulls up. Its
By angel on 05.01.2014
Sometimes it’s like my lungs are filled with water. I look down and realize that I have been swallowed by the sea; my love and my destroyer. I float only high enough above the water to see that she’s killing me, but not enough to cry for help. How lonely it is out in the middle of nowhere.
By KT URL on 05.01.2014
To say my heart is desolate – would be a lie. Desolate hints at destruction, it hints at life once existing. My heart is broken now; and has been since before the delicate valves ever once pulsated. The blood that runs through it is dry – lifeless – dead. Perhaps there is hope. Perhaps this desolation could find recuperation. Could life come?
By Jose on 05.01.2014
I want the word, i want my word, i want One Word.
By Renato on 05.01.2014
En ørken. En ørken i Danmark. I mig selv. Jeg er følelsesløs. Det er en tåget ørken. Som Sahara i dis. Jeg kæmper for ikke at blive fanget i tågen. Finder oaser indimellem og de bliver større og større, med mere og mere vand og flere og flere kokosnødder. Måske finder jeg en dag en oase, jeg kan finde permanent residens i.
By Lasse Skov on 05.01.2014
Everything was going wrong. Was the car accident her fault? Had she killed him? She was desolate.
By Alexandra URL on 05.01.2014
You honestly can’t even remember when or how you got there, but you knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was no way out. You weren’t even sure where you were. It was dark, quiet, desolate. As far as you were concerned you were the only person around and you weren’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.
By Imani on 05.01.2014
Feeling desolate, alone in a crowded room
reaching out but no one hears my cry
By RaShelle URL on 05.01.2014
The dungeon was dark and filthy, and her hair was practically matted with filth, so far tangled that you could almost say with certainty, had you been shown a singular picture of it, that it was a nest of some sort, maybe a fussy bird’s.
She had been kept down here for so long. She hadn’t known it when she had been taken from the subway, but she had been dragged down here with the furnaces and the chains, and left here to rot for some unknown sin.
By im softer into my irony URL on 05.01.2014
Desolate is a strong word. I’m not quite sure what it means but I think it means to leave behind or be alone. I read a lot of books that use this word frequently so you can say that I like to read dark type of books. Desolate desolate desolate. God, am I a dark and lonely person?
By Aiyanna M.B on 05.01.2014
did this yesterday. this time i think of bob dylan walking down the street, hands in pockets, with a woman on his arm…
By Lee URL on 05.01.2014
An empty space like the
pockets in your lungs where air fills them
And dust lingers
Causing coughing fits and dry sighs
An empty place inside
Where flashlights draw shadows around corners
Of the hidden places in your mind
Do we let our selves become hollowed out
Cored like an old apple
By Lauren on 05.01.2014
The desolate, barren landscape looked back at Darren. Bare. Naked. Ready to be explored, he thought. He buckled his hiking pack across his chest and headed down the cliff of clay and stone.
By charlie card on 05.01.2014
The pod stood alone on the desolate plains, with dust drifting around its smoking hull. The glowing red sun superheated the metal until the poor lizards taking refuge in the shade had no choice but to scurry away.
By Andy S on 05.01.2014
Thursday nights in the summer were sometimes spent taking midnight voyages to the far corners of town, the places where you could see the spectral skyline in all of its glory despite their usual desolate greys of the daytime.
By asavas URL on 05.01.2014
the desolate woman, keeps on looking at the mirror, she was haggard and wretched almost to the point of losing hope, yet a glimmer of a light reflection shaded her and she began to remember the day she was before.
By Duchess URL on 05.01.2014
A Stable Hate
You can’t take away
Why do you think I
hold my peace?
Why do you think I
look like a silent killer.
my veiled face
an open threat?
When I pick up in one month what
took you ten years, I’m focused, cunt.
So you think I’m cocky. So you want
to interfere with my thoughts.
So you want to touch
Fine then, I’ll break my peace.
Then I’ll break into the chainsaw blades
wrap them around the edges of the shears.
Start a little fear.
A silent killer
kill kill killing
You know, I am just so focused.
I’m not usually. I usually daydream
while I’m dreaming.
So when I am,
when you make my only thought
about why you should be murdered,
you have already sacrificed yourself.
The only thing you’ll hear
is the nerve of hatred caught
in my jaw’s grind.
By La Bête becomes Man URL on 05.01.2014
The last quiet crumb of laughter sailed gently from her lip. There were no windows, no hint of light to flick across her eyes.
By aria autumn URL on 05.01.2014
a desolate cave is one without persons or happiness, or love or brightness or life. It is empty by nature surely? Would I be desolate without those that I love and care for, certainly. A war scene perhaps is one of utter desolation. grief and emptiness fills it.
By Maggie on 05.01.2014
The land was cold and desolate. The barren tundra struck back at me in the dark. I didn’t know where I was but, for fear of it being worse than imaginable, I didn’t really want to.
By Hank URL on 05.01.2014
that’s what was visible,
the moment he opened his eyes.
his face was one the red, rocky soil.
his spaceman visor, shattered.
he was surprised he could breathe
and that he was still alive.
But wasn’t surprised he was
the only man for millions of miles.
By NuSol URL on 05.01.2014
It is only appropriate that we strive in times of darkness, while we are blinded by our own monsters and victims. In the desolate hour, we are reborn through our pain.
By Peskiper URL on 05.01.2014
“You can’t be serious.” I glance at him, as he shifted his footing, then leaned out slightly, peering over the edge.
“Why not? What is there for us here?”
By Jenn Doe URL on 05.01.2014
Yes, that’s what is said sometimes.
That’s what played sometimes.
That’s what’s made sometimes.
That’s what I need sometimes.
Sounds of Desolation.
I’m desolate today.
By Pool Bar Jim URL on 05.01.2014
lonely sad depression independent strong grief motivation understanding self respect
By Sofia on 05.01.2014
barren and dry she waits for nothing. there is nothing in this place of red rock and dry dust, sun bearing down with relentless heat burning the little soul she has left. no place for green or growth or softness, this only can be a waiting
By Susan Naud on 05.01.2014
lonely sad depression independent strong grief motivation understanding self respect last to speak last to stand
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.