Wrapped. Keine Ahnung, was das heißt. Aus irgendeinem Grund kommt mir jetzt so ein Fastfoodsandwich in den Kopf, von dem ich nicht weiß, warum es nicht einfach Sandwich genannt wird, sondern stattdessen Wrapped Special.
This word makes me think about being completely covered, held, almost restricted by a feeling of being entirely enveloped by some thing. It also makes me think of Christmas and presents, being help together by a rainbow of paper.
your legs wrapped around mine, our minds entangled. i don’t know you, you don’t know me. but everything we know is all we are, together. we don’t have time to leave your bed, i unwrap my legs and stroke your hair back.
It’s not that they didn’t know. But they wrapped each other in lies and silence and denial and liked it that way. He wanted peace and she wanted a future and reality was too scary a place for both of them. In their cowardice, they were always meant for each other.
It was selfish, sure. But that’s the disease of this generation. Most of our souls will die from it eventually, so who were we to judge?
I was wrapped. I stared at the parcel in front of me. Six weeks I had waited for this to arrive. It was carefully covered with bubble-wrap – that would be a boredom buster in a few hours time – but you could tell it came from only one person. Grandma.
all but never encased inside the machines of judgment within oneself and overall those annoying bastard repressors inside my own mind is rather confusing and in all rather dissapointing.
I feel as stuck into my dreams. I am wrapped with thoughts and my dreams and i can’t get out of them. i am stuck. some people might like it. i feel traped. i am covered with fog and lies and dreams.
up in it, thoughts are contagious
and not fleeting if they’re also tied
and woven into everything,
you don’t realize it but
they’re where normality is,
all wrapped together
unfortunately.
for i wrapped myself in what as known as perfection. there was no other desire to be filled, no other wish to be granted. we were in perfect harmony the world and i and i sat there wrapped in her, we were infinite.
i imagine myself being wrapped in something safe, something i can hold on to, wrapped in my mama’s love. i see myself scared, not sure of what move to make, suddenly left alone to make my own decisions… i want to wrap myself up into something safe…
I sometimes get so wrapped around the axle about things that I find myself not thinking straight. I am overly invested in thoughts, ideas and feelings. It can be a distraction and problem in my life.
enclose my face in purple cellophane and deliver the milk though drips and glucose tubes that enter and enlarge my nostrils. not that my nostrils are small.
I’ve always loved sandwiches. They’re really fucking good. When I was a kid I used to have bagels wrapped up in plastic wrap in my lunches with cream cheese and ham. The bagels would get all cold and nasty but they were still delicious.
We all wonder what we’re supposed to be wrapped in. Our selves? Our clothes? Our companies? Our family? Our friends? But the truth is, what you’re supposed to be wrapped in is beauty. Knowledge of the beauty in yourself and others.
One day, I tried talking to the man across the street. He always seemed like a nice man, but he never seemed to talk to anyone. I asked him how the weather was, and he said, “Perfect wrapping weather, my dear boy!” I curiously asked him why he said that, and he said, “Why, you’re a wrapper, aren’t you? It’s perfect for wrapping!”
The box was wrapped in sparkly silver and gold paper and tied up with a neat bow that Mom had carefully curled with scissors the way she always did. It sat in the glow of the Christmas tree – the only light in the room – and seemed to me to shine especially brightly compared to all the other gifts. It beckoned to me like a siren. I knew I shouldn’t get any closer, shouldn’t touch it. Shouldn’t pick it up and shake it just once. But against my will, my feet propelled me towards it, as if it was a magnet and I was made of iron.
up in you like nothing else.. Why does it have to be this way so nothing else can get in to register. I probably need a bit of balance or perspective, but i’m too wrapped up in you to care.
Some days I wake up and feel as if my mind has been wrapped around by a thick cloud that is impervious to thought. I cannot focus, I cannot think. Instead my finds itself stuck in an interminable loop – racing between thoughts and finding no place to land, all the while telling itself that it must settle, settle somewhere, find a place to start. Go, go go. The world will not wait for you. Move, move move.
The cello
rings into my ear
like a wedding ring
with 40 crystals
synchronized with each other,
each sparkling in the sunlight
just so
as to catch the glimpse of rainbow
in the distance.
Strings pulled
elegantly,
through a mug
of hot chocolate,
steaming in the car
after hours of standing in the cold
without a coat,
feet as numb as icicles.
It burns down your throat
like the cool jazz guitar chords
and the high notes screaming
on the cello,
glistening.
wrapping a gift is the best feeling in the world, because you’re taking your time to do so. Wrapping isn’t really a must but once it’s done it just shows how special that person is.
Wrapped in love, in cuddles and kisses and hugs. Wrapped and bound, in joy and happyness for all to see. You are my light, You are my warmth, You are everything to me.
what am i wrapped in? what holds me together, not physically but emotionally? It’s a sort of skin, I guess, basically a paradigm through which I can filter all that happens to me and to those I love. A way to make sense of the world around me. I am wrapped in beliefs.
Wrapped. Keine Ahnung, was das heißt. Aus irgendeinem Grund kommt mir jetzt so ein Fastfoodsandwich in den Kopf, von dem ich nicht weiß, warum es nicht einfach Sandwich genannt wird, sondern stattdessen Wrapped Special.
This word makes me think about being completely covered, held, almost restricted by a feeling of being entirely enveloped by some thing. It also makes me think of Christmas and presents, being help together by a rainbow of paper.
your legs wrapped around mine, our minds entangled. i don’t know you, you don’t know me. but everything we know is all we are, together. we don’t have time to leave your bed, i unwrap my legs and stroke your hair back.
It’s not that they didn’t know. But they wrapped each other in lies and silence and denial and liked it that way. He wanted peace and she wanted a future and reality was too scary a place for both of them. In their cowardice, they were always meant for each other.
It was selfish, sure. But that’s the disease of this generation. Most of our souls will die from it eventually, so who were we to judge?
under the covers, wrapped up in my dreamy cocoon, i find peace and quiet.
I was wrapped. I stared at the parcel in front of me. Six weeks I had waited for this to arrive. It was carefully covered with bubble-wrap – that would be a boredom buster in a few hours time – but you could tell it came from only one person. Grandma.
all but never encased inside the machines of judgment within oneself and overall those annoying bastard repressors inside my own mind is rather confusing and in all rather dissapointing.
I feel as stuck into my dreams. I am wrapped with thoughts and my dreams and i can’t get out of them. i am stuck. some people might like it. i feel traped. i am covered with fog and lies and dreams.
up, floating away from any point of last being seen
unknow, not without meaning or average. Wrapped up.
I am wrapped in your arms and I can feel your love around me caressing me. I am wrapped in your light from the inside. I love you so much.
I wrapped the gift carefully. It was a a]specail gift for my mother and I wanted it to be perfect. It was something she had wanted for a long time.
Glad wrapped thoughts soffocate.They cannot esacape. Air tight and almost water proof- leaking through my tears and decaying in the cavity of my brain
up in it, thoughts are contagious
and not fleeting if they’re also tied
and woven into everything,
you don’t realize it but
they’re where normality is,
all wrapped together
unfortunately.
for i wrapped myself in what as known as perfection. there was no other desire to be filled, no other wish to be granted. we were in perfect harmony the world and i and i sat there wrapped in her, we were infinite.
i imagine myself being wrapped in something safe, something i can hold on to, wrapped in my mama’s love. i see myself scared, not sure of what move to make, suddenly left alone to make my own decisions… i want to wrap myself up into something safe…
I sometimes get so wrapped around the axle about things that I find myself not thinking straight. I am overly invested in thoughts, ideas and feelings. It can be a distraction and problem in my life.
Wrapped up in emptiness that’s all consuming and cold and overwhelming.
I wrapped a present today. It was gold and red with a silver lining. The gift ended up impressing those who needed it, but i loved the wrapping.
the presence of my thoughts wrapped up in my mind serves as a prologue to (my) creations.
candy! gifts! food! the exciting thought of unwrapping a surprise…
enclose my face in purple cellophane and deliver the milk though drips and glucose tubes that enter and enlarge my nostrils. not that my nostrils are small.
paper wrapping paper coloring paper boxes foil celophane does it matter?
I wonder
confined
covered
solitude
I’ve always loved sandwiches. They’re really fucking good. When I was a kid I used to have bagels wrapped up in plastic wrap in my lunches with cream cheese and ham. The bagels would get all cold and nasty but they were still delicious.
We all wonder what we’re supposed to be wrapped in. Our selves? Our clothes? Our companies? Our family? Our friends? But the truth is, what you’re supposed to be wrapped in is beauty. Knowledge of the beauty in yourself and others.
One day, I tried talking to the man across the street. He always seemed like a nice man, but he never seemed to talk to anyone. I asked him how the weather was, and he said, “Perfect wrapping weather, my dear boy!” I curiously asked him why he said that, and he said, “Why, you’re a wrapper, aren’t you? It’s perfect for wrapping!”
wrap me up in you
wrapped like a little sausage
in your arms
warmth
forgiveness
hope
yesterdays
i’ll miss you
miss you
over
The box was wrapped in sparkly silver and gold paper and tied up with a neat bow that Mom had carefully curled with scissors the way she always did. It sat in the glow of the Christmas tree – the only light in the room – and seemed to me to shine especially brightly compared to all the other gifts. It beckoned to me like a siren. I knew I shouldn’t get any closer, shouldn’t touch it. Shouldn’t pick it up and shake it just once. But against my will, my feet propelled me towards it, as if it was a magnet and I was made of iron.
Born, like a present. Tangled. Sinuey and sweet.
around your finger. that’s what i used to be. i used to answer your ever call, but i cant do that anymore.
up in you like nothing else.. Why does it have to be this way so nothing else can get in to register. I probably need a bit of balance or perspective, but i’m too wrapped up in you to care.
They were wrapped in a satin blanket, the warmth of his body and touch of his skin, sent shivers down her back.
Wrapped in a grey cloth, I found myself trapped in the only place i knew as safe. Shivering from the sweat on my body, I walked towards the door.
Some days I wake up and feel as if my mind has been wrapped around by a thick cloud that is impervious to thought. I cannot focus, I cannot think. Instead my finds itself stuck in an interminable loop – racing between thoughts and finding no place to land, all the while telling itself that it must settle, settle somewhere, find a place to start. Go, go go. The world will not wait for you. Move, move move.
The cello
rings into my ear
like a wedding ring
with 40 crystals
synchronized with each other,
each sparkling in the sunlight
just so
as to catch the glimpse of rainbow
in the distance.
Strings pulled
elegantly,
through a mug
of hot chocolate,
steaming in the car
after hours of standing in the cold
without a coat,
feet as numb as icicles.
It burns down your throat
like the cool jazz guitar chords
and the high notes screaming
on the cello,
glistening.
and so we wrap ourselves in our own skins; our personas. this is how we are born.
wrapping presents presents are objects generally at least those we wrap you cannot wrap love in garishly decorated papers and bows
wrapping a gift is the best feeling in the world, because you’re taking your time to do so. Wrapping isn’t really a must but once it’s done it just shows how special that person is.
wrapped up in a lie of untold truth. fighting to find the words and the ways out of it…
Wrapped in love, in cuddles and kisses and hugs. Wrapped and bound, in joy and happyness for all to see. You are my light, You are my warmth, You are everything to me.
what am i wrapped in? what holds me together, not physically but emotionally? It’s a sort of skin, I guess, basically a paradigm through which I can filter all that happens to me and to those I love. A way to make sense of the world around me. I am wrapped in beliefs.