Oh man i did this one already! All because i was a little to hasty in trying hit the back page button, now i have to restart writing about more coke, but I’m not so sure that im associating powder with cocaine this time. I’m thinking more like, baking soda and vinegar….
the powder drifted over the city. The clouds were heavy with it and the streets breathed with it. Flowing through windows, into sleepy lungs from the camps. Camps all over Germany. The dust of the dead.
I immediately think of snow-the perfect kind of snow that used to fall before Mom and Dad split up. This kind of snow I could only see through the front window while standing in the living room at Dad’s house when everyone was still in that one perfect place. This is the gentle snow that sent us in for lunch out of those chunky yellow bowls that I loved for no reason at all other than they held the sustenance that would reheat is just enough to run out again for a few hours running up and down our favorite hill until dinner. It’s funny: I never remember the end of the afternoon of play, only the beginning of dinner. I guess selective memory only retains the sugar-coated stuff.
The girl could feel her heart turning into powder as it was being crushed by a certain feeling she did not understand. As if she was lost in the middle of a vast desert, the sands stretching in all directions.
And as her powdered heart blends with the sand below her feet as it falls, the girl could not recognize which was which – or if she were able to get out of here.
One glance at the coffee table and his entire world tilted. She’d been so good, for so long. Over two years now, and most days he could pretend she’d lost the ghost of addiction. His covered his ears to block out whispers of laughter from the lines of perfectly cut white powder mocking him.
I saw a man do cocaine once. I was lying in his bed, waiting for him to get hard. It never came. He never came. He laughed and he cried over his wife and kids. They left him “for the weekend” to get away from his binge. What a powerful business man, addicted to this powder. I stared at it and wondered how a man can be reduced to an addict.
I live my life in absolute abundance all the time as have no time to deal with the powder of poverty in my head as we were not meant to live like that…
She opened the case, pulling out the brush and dabbing it into the taupe powder. Tracing it across her nose, she tenderly moved it up to her eye, carefully avoiding too much pressure. The green and purple bruise shined through even the darkest application of the makeup. It was no use.
powder white. thats how beautiful it seemed. pure. virgin. happy. clean. everything she couldnt be. but the snow was deadly. she knew. the deception haunted her often. so she moved on. snow was more like her than she wanted it to be. white, but deadly.
Powder is one of those things that you just can’t do without. With those hectic activities that we engage in, you must be able to care for yourself as best as he can, and the use of powder on your body after you a bathe is the best way to start the day.
The sink was full of water, drops of cream colored face wash filling the perfectly clear liquid until it wasn’t so translucent anymore.
The woman’s powder seemed almost impossible to take off at first, but clearly it wasn’t an issue in the end. The water was stained a cream colour, a testament to the woman’s ability to rid herself of poorly-done makeup.
As I walked in our front door, Mom had just ground the coffee to a powder.
“It smells good, doesn’t it,” She said taking the coffee out.
“Yip, there’s nothing better than a good cuppa coffee.” She put the coffee into the coffee maker and flicked the on button. A few minutes later, we were in the lounge and sipping on some hot coffee.
Powder on the foundation, cover up your flaws. You think if you put on this protective cover, no one will see your ugliness, but it’s deeper down than the skin surface, seeping into your pores. You’re a serpent in secret, a tempter, a demon in disguise. And no one had a clue.
The sky wasn’t violet. It wasn’t the bruised purple sky that rained down an avalanche and destroyed my mumma’s roses. It was my favourite colour of sky. A powder blue one, gentle and calm. The very same colour as my mumma’s eyes, the colour that sparkled at me just before she left me. When I look up I can see her there in that sky. I know she is reaching out for a hug because she knows everything that has happened and she knows that it isn’t my fault.
“I hope you weren’t thinking of leaving town without saying goodbye!” Lisa closed the door as she spoke. Then her demeanour became more businesslike. “We know about the body by the pool in Bethesda. You will be relieved to hear we know it wasn’t you, but the local PD are doing their own investigation, so keep your head down. He wasn’t Lambert, but he did work for him, so we planted enough pills, powder and cash to send the local police off looking in Miami, to keep them out of the way. What you do need to know is that this changes nothing. We still want you to stay inside the organisation; we still want to find out whose pulling all the strings in this puppet show.”
She powdered her nose and looked into the mirror. Was she really that old? Where did all those wrinkles come from? She could swear that those weren’t there a few days ago. That’s the odd thing about growing old, you become an artifact of yourself. The wrinkles set in and soon they’re putting your body on a display in a museum.
She powdered her face and looked into the mirror. Was she really that old? She hadn’t noticed the wrinkles under her eyes until tonight. Growing old is odd isn’t it? You become an artifact of what you once were.
A substance broken down into a soft fine particle.
Powdered sugar is soft and snowy..and oh shit I forgot I just have thirty seconds.
Cocaine.
Powdered Snow.
Soothing talc powder.
Baby Powder.
Flour..is like a powder.
So to is cement before it is set.
And plaster of paris.
In England they used to powder their wigs to keep them free of louse and other such creepy crawlies.
Iocaine powder is one of the most deadly substances on earth, undetectable to the nose or pallet. A favorite of the Dread Pirate Roberts.
Inconceivable!
No more rhyming I mean it!
Anybody, want a peanut?
The snow fell. And fell. It kept on falling, and it seemed like it would be relentless. That makes no difference for a certain Tsukishima Kei, for he was going to shut himself indoors as usual. His condition was not that bad, but with the passing of his beloved, he no longer felt any drive to live a happy life.
I used to see older women in the rest room, putting powder on their noses. Lipstick, too. And blush on their cheeks. I used to think, “What the hell is the point, really?” Harsh. Now, I look in the mirror and say the same thing about myself. But this time, I have an answer. I know the point. So this is to say sorry to all those older women who I thought should give up. I hope you didn’t ever give up. And I was just stupid.
He just asked me what my sign was…after all these years. I roll my eyes at first.
The truthful thing is to say that when he met me years ago, I’d been eating a supple plum and wearing perfume. We were outdoors. It was on a light breezy morning. My blouse was buttoned to midbreast.
Was it any surprise that tonight’s powdery response was: Leo on the cusp of Virgo. Altho I could have told him about my equivalents in Celtic, Asian, and random other mythologies I’d read of too. Bit I wasn’t in the mood. They’re nice stories, but I’m working on another collection. It’s all my own. Maybe if he doesn’t irritate me with inane questions, I will share them.
First read power. Then linked. The power of the powder. In spanish, powder can mean “polvo”, which, depending where you are, can mean crack. One drug, powder, lots of power.
The pinkish grey powder floated from the ceiling in the room. My eyes widened and my heart raced quickened.
“W-What is that?!” I stammered whilst looking up at the tiny black camera in the corner of the room. I covered my mouth and nose with one hand and squeezed my eyes shut – there is no way out. I’ve tried for hours on end to find a door, a window, a crack even. Nothing but the blank white walls and a tiny black camera.
The powder on her face was cracked and falling off, you could see her true self through those cracks. You see, she hides herself under the powder she cakes on her face, but the longer you see her, the more you talk to her, the more you get her to talk, the powder begins to come apart and come off, and you begin to see what she is really like.
First day of High School was the oddest day for me. It wasn’t the teachers or classes, it was the people. I knew most of them, but they were, unrecognizable. For the most part. Especially the girls, their faces primped and powdered.
Everyone’s faces were painted. They’d all painted pictures on their faces of who they wish they were.
clod cut cold cocked
to love to wire to whine
to powder
to sadness long away
like a broken memory
in a broken frame
a deep breath
relaxation condensation
inebriation
The green powder felt dry, like sand. Until he squeezed it and it became a goo. He ran from the mysterious cabin as fast as he could, the he ran into Zuni.
The glittering powder trickled down the dusty shoot towards the light. Would the potion work? Would this vital last missing ingredient be the right type of glitter? There were so many in the field. Had she picked wisely?
Maude waxed her eyebrows and powdered her nose, while Melissa trimmed the hairs on her fingers and toes. Alexandra used foundation to cover up her pimples, and her sister, Mary Anne, kept her eyeliner simple. The four colored and sketched on their faces and jaws, painted roses on their nails and their talons and claws.
You used it against me
like it was my own that I gave to you
apologetically
I would surrender
exhausted
Oh man i did this one already! All because i was a little to hasty in trying hit the back page button, now i have to restart writing about more coke, but I’m not so sure that im associating powder with cocaine this time. I’m thinking more like, baking soda and vinegar….
glitter powder
streaked like stardust
only armour
all you’ve got
Anxiety. Is a magic pill really necessary? What if my anxiety is trying to tell me something – to save my life?
This bone meal, this dust…..
flitting in-between these bitter hello’s
One exhale to hurry it away, before it settles heavily,
a reminder of our plan.
the powder drifted over the city. The clouds were heavy with it and the streets breathed with it. Flowing through windows, into sleepy lungs from the camps. Camps all over Germany. The dust of the dead.
I ate a powdered donut it was delicious.
I ate a powdery donut and it was so powdered i coughed and the powder went everywhere.
I immediately think of snow-the perfect kind of snow that used to fall before Mom and Dad split up. This kind of snow I could only see through the front window while standing in the living room at Dad’s house when everyone was still in that one perfect place. This is the gentle snow that sent us in for lunch out of those chunky yellow bowls that I loved for no reason at all other than they held the sustenance that would reheat is just enough to run out again for a few hours running up and down our favorite hill until dinner. It’s funny: I never remember the end of the afternoon of play, only the beginning of dinner. I guess selective memory only retains the sugar-coated stuff.
Η πουδρα απλώθηκε σε όλο το πάτωμα και ήταν αδ΄βατο πια να βρεθεί το μικροσκοπικό διαμάντι. όΛες οι ελπίδες τους χάθηκαν. Η μήπως όχι; Η απελπιία
The girl could feel her heart turning into powder as it was being crushed by a certain feeling she did not understand. As if she was lost in the middle of a vast desert, the sands stretching in all directions.
And as her powdered heart blends with the sand below her feet as it falls, the girl could not recognize which was which – or if she were able to get out of here.
One glance at the coffee table and his entire world tilted. She’d been so good, for so long. Over two years now, and most days he could pretend she’d lost the ghost of addiction. His covered his ears to block out whispers of laughter from the lines of perfectly cut white powder mocking him.
I saw a man do cocaine once. I was lying in his bed, waiting for him to get hard. It never came. He never came. He laughed and he cried over his wife and kids. They left him “for the weekend” to get away from his binge. What a powerful business man, addicted to this powder. I stared at it and wondered how a man can be reduced to an addict.
I live my life in absolute abundance all the time as have no time to deal with the powder of poverty in my head as we were not meant to live like that…
She opened the case, pulling out the brush and dabbing it into the taupe powder. Tracing it across her nose, she tenderly moved it up to her eye, carefully avoiding too much pressure. The green and purple bruise shined through even the darkest application of the makeup. It was no use.
powder white. thats how beautiful it seemed. pure. virgin. happy. clean. everything she couldnt be. but the snow was deadly. she knew. the deception haunted her often. so she moved on. snow was more like her than she wanted it to be. white, but deadly.
Powder is one of those things that you just can’t do without. With those hectic activities that we engage in, you must be able to care for yourself as best as he can, and the use of powder on your body after you a bathe is the best way to start the day.
The sink was full of water, drops of cream colored face wash filling the perfectly clear liquid until it wasn’t so translucent anymore.
The woman’s powder seemed almost impossible to take off at first, but clearly it wasn’t an issue in the end. The water was stained a cream colour, a testament to the woman’s ability to rid herself of poorly-done makeup.
As I walked in our front door, Mom had just ground the coffee to a powder.
“It smells good, doesn’t it,” She said taking the coffee out.
“Yip, there’s nothing better than a good cuppa coffee.” She put the coffee into the coffee maker and flicked the on button. A few minutes later, we were in the lounge and sipping on some hot coffee.
Powder on the foundation, cover up your flaws. You think if you put on this protective cover, no one will see your ugliness, but it’s deeper down than the skin surface, seeping into your pores. You’re a serpent in secret, a tempter, a demon in disguise. And no one had a clue.
The sky wasn’t violet. It wasn’t the bruised purple sky that rained down an avalanche and destroyed my mumma’s roses. It was my favourite colour of sky. A powder blue one, gentle and calm. The very same colour as my mumma’s eyes, the colour that sparkled at me just before she left me. When I look up I can see her there in that sky. I know she is reaching out for a hug because she knows everything that has happened and she knows that it isn’t my fault.
“I hope you weren’t thinking of leaving town without saying goodbye!” Lisa closed the door as she spoke. Then her demeanour became more businesslike. “We know about the body by the pool in Bethesda. You will be relieved to hear we know it wasn’t you, but the local PD are doing their own investigation, so keep your head down. He wasn’t Lambert, but he did work for him, so we planted enough pills, powder and cash to send the local police off looking in Miami, to keep them out of the way. What you do need to know is that this changes nothing. We still want you to stay inside the organisation; we still want to find out whose pulling all the strings in this puppet show.”
She powdered her nose and looked into the mirror. Was she really that old? Where did all those wrinkles come from? She could swear that those weren’t there a few days ago. That’s the odd thing about growing old, you become an artifact of yourself. The wrinkles set in and soon they’re putting your body on a display in a museum.
She powdered her face and looked into the mirror. Was she really that old? She hadn’t noticed the wrinkles under her eyes until tonight. Growing old is odd isn’t it? You become an artifact of what you once were.
A substance broken down into a soft fine particle.
Powdered sugar is soft and snowy..and oh shit I forgot I just have thirty seconds.
Cocaine.
Powdered Snow.
Soothing talc powder.
Baby Powder.
Flour..is like a powder.
So to is cement before it is set.
And plaster of paris.
In England they used to powder their wigs to keep them free of louse and other such creepy crawlies.
Iocaine powder is one of the most deadly substances on earth, undetectable to the nose or pallet. A favorite of the Dread Pirate Roberts.
Inconceivable!
No more rhyming I mean it!
Anybody, want a peanut?
The snow fell. And fell. It kept on falling, and it seemed like it would be relentless. That makes no difference for a certain Tsukishima Kei, for he was going to shut himself indoors as usual. His condition was not that bad, but with the passing of his beloved, he no longer felt any drive to live a happy life.
A fine dust that helps to reduce friction and moisture. A soft and delicate substance related to comfort. Snow, the sort to ski on
Powder is a finely crushed substance. used to describe drugs snow or talc. ever put baby powder in your butt and fart?
I used to see older women in the rest room, putting powder on their noses. Lipstick, too. And blush on their cheeks. I used to think, “What the hell is the point, really?” Harsh. Now, I look in the mirror and say the same thing about myself. But this time, I have an answer. I know the point. So this is to say sorry to all those older women who I thought should give up. I hope you didn’t ever give up. And I was just stupid.
He just asked me what my sign was…after all these years. I roll my eyes at first.
The truthful thing is to say that when he met me years ago, I’d been eating a supple plum and wearing perfume. We were outdoors. It was on a light breezy morning. My blouse was buttoned to midbreast.
Was it any surprise that tonight’s powdery response was: Leo on the cusp of Virgo. Altho I could have told him about my equivalents in Celtic, Asian, and random other mythologies I’d read of too. Bit I wasn’t in the mood. They’re nice stories, but I’m working on another collection. It’s all my own. Maybe if he doesn’t irritate me with inane questions, I will share them.
First read power. Then linked. The power of the powder. In spanish, powder can mean “polvo”, which, depending where you are, can mean crack. One drug, powder, lots of power.
The pinkish grey powder floated from the ceiling in the room. My eyes widened and my heart raced quickened.
“W-What is that?!” I stammered whilst looking up at the tiny black camera in the corner of the room. I covered my mouth and nose with one hand and squeezed my eyes shut – there is no way out. I’ve tried for hours on end to find a door, a window, a crack even. Nothing but the blank white walls and a tiny black camera.
Crushed to infinitely finite
White powder. It covers everything. All fading together until I can’t see. I slip and fall, losing my balance.
The powder on her face was cracked and falling off, you could see her true self through those cracks. You see, she hides herself under the powder she cakes on her face, but the longer you see her, the more you talk to her, the more you get her to talk, the powder begins to come apart and come off, and you begin to see what she is really like.
First day of High School was the oddest day for me. It wasn’t the teachers or classes, it was the people. I knew most of them, but they were, unrecognizable. For the most part. Especially the girls, their faces primped and powdered.
Everyone’s faces were painted. They’d all painted pictures on their faces of who they wish they were.
clod cut cold cocked
to love to wire to whine
to powder
to sadness long away
like a broken memory
in a broken frame
a deep breath
relaxation condensation
inebriation
The green powder felt dry, like sand. Until he squeezed it and it became a goo. He ran from the mysterious cabin as fast as he could, the he ran into Zuni.
The glittering powder trickled down the dusty shoot towards the light. Would the potion work? Would this vital last missing ingredient be the right type of glitter? There were so many in the field. Had she picked wisely?
Maude waxed her eyebrows and powdered her nose, while Melissa trimmed the hairs on her fingers and toes. Alexandra used foundation to cover up her pimples, and her sister, Mary Anne, kept her eyeliner simple. The four colored and sketched on their faces and jaws, painted roses on their nails and their talons and claws.