I’d curse you, but if I did, then maybe I’d use the wrong words and accidentally cure you of your illness. Your sick mind that thinks everything is about you…and me. About us, about what we could be, if we were to get together beyond dusk and the falling stars, under the apse of the sky and sigh together, so close until breaths that were apart, were one. I’m done.
We joke that we’re cursed with two left feet, bad luck, cursed by some deity we only know from stories and myth. But don’t we make our own choices, accomplish our own goals? So can we turn our so-called curses into fortune?
What I want to do in the morning when the light is so thick with clouds that it seems pinned against the bare branches of the winter trees. It is the silent voice inside me that turns my head facing the wall.
Oh, wow, curse. It’s something bad, right? Or it could be a cursor on your computer. It can be something serious, or something just throwing around. I do it a lot, and I use it a lot. It’s just something commonplace, you know. It’s just like that. It’s just like that….. It’s here and there and everywhere. You have nothing to do about it because it’s just going to be here like that…
I curse the day that I lose my muscle tone.
i am seeing a big difference now and it is only getting worse. I never thought that i would get old…things are sagging.
I am becoming my mother.
If there’s such a thing as being cursed, I can’t buy into the idea that it’s some type of thing that’s unforgivable or irreversible. To be sent down a dreary path for the remainder of your days isn’t kosher, in my eyes. Regardless of what you believe in, you’ve gotta be able to augment your path… so to be cursed… I feel as if it’s just an excuse. Tough it out.
May you lose it all but remember everything. Or something like that, curses are tricky things. They tend to turn into blessings if you aren’t careful. But then again, blessings are just as easily turned into curses. It’s part of the Lore. Be careful what you wish for, but all clouds have a silver lining, if you want to be cliche’d about it.
Curses! Foiled again
I guess pople don’t care as much as they used to about curse words. Are curse words the same as cuss words? I don’t think so.
A curse feel more venomous and evil and mean.
Cuss words are just words to express anger or frustration.
I was cursed with the flu. I layed in bed, home sick and aching. Why couldn’t I just go to the doctor and get some medicine. But no, my mother would not see to it. Instead she made me suffer and drink chicken soup.
The curse. It had found him. Just like it had found his father before him, and his father before him. The curse of generations. There was no escape was there? The curse would haunt him until the day he died. He waited for the words to fall and seal his fate.
curse is the bllod that building up and boiling and runing down my legs on the inside adn dripping and sticky. How fun to psychologically manipulate people
A curse. That’s what he cast on me. A curse for all eternity. And I was just starting to see it now. I had never had succeeded in believing in myself, and never knew why before.
In trees he would sit, nestled between something like leaves looking half-decayed or squirrel eaten, thinking they wouldn’t eat leaves, wondering what was wrong up this tree. He would listen.
curve, swerve theres a nurse by my bedside she holds my hand
while im alive, i nurse my head side, till this dead ride takes my heads side
read the books they left behind the haunts and the ghosts took you for a ride
the sylphlike oneiric faces of sheets in crinkles between fields of sheet.
Youngjae got mad. He hated Himchan. He cursed him to get hurt. He cursed him to die. But in the end, he regret it. He hurt himself by hurting the one he loves. He cursed himself in the end.
Youngjae was so mad at Himchan. He cursed him. He cursed him like Himchan wasn’t his Hyung. He lost his respect for the elder. He didn’t know how to love the older guy again. HE thought that it was over. He curse him to get hurt, to Die.
Was it a curse or ignorance on my part? Working as if it were a curse I missed years of my life that could have been improved simply by learning some facts
Curse. It’s a casual word. So many things can be said about it, yet so little is ever meant. When people curse, they insult another using words that are the opposite of polite. To curse someone is to sentence them to hell, revoke their right to live life. Curse is damnation.
I met an old women once.
She came to my door, wearing a ratty coat and a dopey straw hat. You understand? She looked normal enough.
She offered me a basket of apples from her cart, and her smile was yellowed and crooked.
“Apples for the lovely girl?”
Mama was out, shopping or getting a hit. Sister was away at school. Daddy was dead.
“Sure. How much?”
She shook her head so fast her papery face blurred. Nothing, nothing. An honour.
“Only one, I guess.”
I reached out and marvelled at the contrast of our skins; mine tan, brown, and slightly pudgy, her’s shaking and translucent, criss-crossed with stand-up veins.
She handed me one, and nodded.
“Taste first, before I go?”
I shrugged and took a bite.
Chewed.
Held back a gag.
“It’s very good.”
She beamed at me, and fairly skipped down the hall.
I spit out the half-chewed bit and chucked the rest of the fruit into the trash.
That was the nastiest apple I’d ever eaten.
I feel cursed. Like the only thing I identified with was that and now it is gone.
How could it be taken away? And how could I have let it become everything?
And now it is gone.
The curse. That’s what they call it. The first time I experienced it, I didn’t know what was going on. What a fright! I knew about bleeding, but this just didn’t seem right.
I don’t curse. Ever. And yet, in meditation yesterday, the first thing that popped into my mind was a swear word. Where did that come from? Maybe I’ve been a closet cursing girl this whole time, but only subconsciously.
There are few things that pique a hot tempered person like a hot tempered person. Fuck spelling mistakes. Ugh. Sorry.
A witch once attacked a pricked-ears little boy and turned him into a truth teller. Later, he told a few honest mistakes. That’s a curse if I ever seen one
“What is it?” She reached towards the golden amulet. Awe was painted across her pretty face.
“Don’t touch it!” He surged froward, grabbing her hand away. “Don’t.” He took a few shaky breaths, cradling her hand close to his chest. He then whirled around on her. “Are you insane, woman?” The words came out harsher than he’d intended. “Do you have sand for brains or worse, air?”
She yanked her hand free from him with a huff. “I don’t need to-”
“Haydilon’s Curse, woman.” He growled out, his anger slowly simmering. “Do you know nothing of cursed artifacts? Surely you are not this stupid to think that a mere–” He threw up his hands. “Never mind. We’ve found it. We know it exists and we’re leaving now.”
“Leaving?” She protested. “But-!”
“Yes, leaving. Because if you’d touched, we wouldn’t even exist right now and neither would anything within a five-hundred mile radius. This, young lady, was your first and last excursion.”
I’m procastinating right now, but I can’t enjoy it because I know that I’ll have to get back to work eventually, and I won’t get as much done because I spent my time goofing off. This is a curse.
She looked as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, as my mother used to say. The truth was, Gloria could curse like a sailor, and was proud of it. I had to admit, it was one of the reasons I found her so sexy.
there are things you are allowed to speak strongly against. the constant dismissal of your opinion, the constant condescending remarks, the constant hatred we deal with for being born with the wrong genitalia – that is the woman’s curse.
I’ve been cursed with the newbie syndrome where it is painfully evident that I don’t know how to use this thing yet.
That being said, I find it rather enjoyable.
This last curse hit him directly in the heart. He suddenly felt the pain of losing the one and only he had ever cared for, because the curse had broken the ice that kept his heart from feeling. He immediately died of a broken heart.
I’d curse you, but if I did, then maybe I’d use the wrong words and accidentally cure you of your illness. Your sick mind that thinks everything is about you…and me. About us, about what we could be, if we were to get together beyond dusk and the falling stars, under the apse of the sky and sigh together, so close until breaths that were apart, were one. I’m done.
We joke that we’re cursed with two left feet, bad luck, cursed by some deity we only know from stories and myth. But don’t we make our own choices, accomplish our own goals? So can we turn our so-called curses into fortune?
What I want to do in the morning when the light is so thick with clouds that it seems pinned against the bare branches of the winter trees. It is the silent voice inside me that turns my head facing the wall.
Oh, wow, curse. It’s something bad, right? Or it could be a cursor on your computer. It can be something serious, or something just throwing around. I do it a lot, and I use it a lot. It’s just something commonplace, you know. It’s just like that. It’s just like that….. It’s here and there and everywhere. You have nothing to do about it because it’s just going to be here like that…
I curse the day that I lose my muscle tone.
i am seeing a big difference now and it is only getting worse. I never thought that i would get old…things are sagging.
I am becoming my mother.
Is this what you do, or what someone has cast upon you, or the former as a reaction to the latter.
If there’s such a thing as being cursed, I can’t buy into the idea that it’s some type of thing that’s unforgivable or irreversible. To be sent down a dreary path for the remainder of your days isn’t kosher, in my eyes. Regardless of what you believe in, you’ve gotta be able to augment your path… so to be cursed… I feel as if it’s just an excuse. Tough it out.
May you lose it all but remember everything. Or something like that, curses are tricky things. They tend to turn into blessings if you aren’t careful. But then again, blessings are just as easily turned into curses. It’s part of the Lore. Be careful what you wish for, but all clouds have a silver lining, if you want to be cliche’d about it.
Curses! Foiled again
I guess pople don’t care as much as they used to about curse words. Are curse words the same as cuss words? I don’t think so.
A curse feel more venomous and evil and mean.
Cuss words are just words to express anger or frustration.
I was cursed with the flu. I layed in bed, home sick and aching. Why couldn’t I just go to the doctor and get some medicine. But no, my mother would not see to it. Instead she made me suffer and drink chicken soup.
The curse. It had found him. Just like it had found his father before him, and his father before him. The curse of generations. There was no escape was there? The curse would haunt him until the day he died. He waited for the words to fall and seal his fate.
“I now pronounce you man and wife”
this word is heavy with cliches: a warty hand of a woman, an apple, blood running down a girl’s legs. It hurts. Spare me.
curse is the bllod that building up and boiling and runing down my legs on the inside adn dripping and sticky. How fun to psychologically manipulate people
Being born is easy. Being born is simple. Everyone does it. But in certain families with certain names it’s better not to have been born at all.
A curse. That’s what he cast on me. A curse for all eternity. And I was just starting to see it now. I had never had succeeded in believing in myself, and never knew why before.
The family had been cursed.
The souls drifted in between their walls
they held onto the light
but glimpses became a farce to them
what is that ? the question, the curse.
In trees he would sit, nestled between something like leaves looking half-decayed or squirrel eaten, thinking they wouldn’t eat leaves, wondering what was wrong up this tree. He would listen.
curve, swerve theres a nurse by my bedside she holds my hand
while im alive, i nurse my head side, till this dead ride takes my heads side
read the books they left behind the haunts and the ghosts took you for a ride
the sylphlike oneiric faces of sheets in crinkles between fields of sheet.
Youngjae got mad. He hated Himchan. He cursed him to get hurt. He cursed him to die. But in the end, he regret it. He hurt himself by hurting the one he loves. He cursed himself in the end.
Youngjae was so mad at Himchan. He cursed him. He cursed him like Himchan wasn’t his Hyung. He lost his respect for the elder. He didn’t know how to love the older guy again. HE thought that it was over. He curse him to get hurt, to Die.
damn it. firetruck. take out the iretr. damn. god damn. cursing is bad. but we all do it from time to time. it’s a natural expression but crude.
a badd wordd… orr as an examplee someone put a cursee onn youu((:<3 ha
This curse of comfort
in our compatibility.
When I have no where to turn
I somehow find you.
But you’re not my answer,
you’re just a rest stop
along the way there.
Can’t seem to let you go,
But I can’t stand to stay.
Was it a curse or ignorance on my part? Working as if it were a curse I missed years of my life that could have been improved simply by learning some facts
curse me and i will get mad, but we can talk about it later and i may teach you about a thing or two.
Curse. It’s a casual word. So many things can be said about it, yet so little is ever meant. When people curse, they insult another using words that are the opposite of polite. To curse someone is to sentence them to hell, revoke their right to live life. Curse is damnation.
I met an old women once.
She came to my door, wearing a ratty coat and a dopey straw hat. You understand? She looked normal enough.
She offered me a basket of apples from her cart, and her smile was yellowed and crooked.
“Apples for the lovely girl?”
Mama was out, shopping or getting a hit. Sister was away at school. Daddy was dead.
“Sure. How much?”
She shook her head so fast her papery face blurred. Nothing, nothing. An honour.
“Only one, I guess.”
I reached out and marvelled at the contrast of our skins; mine tan, brown, and slightly pudgy, her’s shaking and translucent, criss-crossed with stand-up veins.
She handed me one, and nodded.
“Taste first, before I go?”
I shrugged and took a bite.
Chewed.
Held back a gag.
“It’s very good.”
She beamed at me, and fairly skipped down the hall.
I spit out the half-chewed bit and chucked the rest of the fruit into the trash.
That was the nastiest apple I’d ever eaten.
I feel cursed. Like the only thing I identified with was that and now it is gone.
How could it be taken away? And how could I have let it become everything?
And now it is gone.
I feel cursed. I am not, I am blessed in so many ways but most of the time I am so depressed I don’t even see it. It makes me feel sad.
The curse. That’s what they call it. The first time I experienced it, I didn’t know what was going on. What a fright! I knew about bleeding, but this just didn’t seem right.
I don’t curse. Ever. And yet, in meditation yesterday, the first thing that popped into my mind was a swear word. Where did that come from? Maybe I’ve been a closet cursing girl this whole time, but only subconsciously.
Knowing that I’m
imperfect
and striving for
balance
makes one strident
to self
and others
a curse
There are few things that pique a hot tempered person like a hot tempered person. Fuck spelling mistakes. Ugh. Sorry.
A witch once attacked a pricked-ears little boy and turned him into a truth teller. Later, he told a few honest mistakes. That’s a curse if I ever seen one
“What is it?” She reached towards the golden amulet. Awe was painted across her pretty face.
“Don’t touch it!” He surged froward, grabbing her hand away. “Don’t.” He took a few shaky breaths, cradling her hand close to his chest. He then whirled around on her. “Are you insane, woman?” The words came out harsher than he’d intended. “Do you have sand for brains or worse, air?”
She yanked her hand free from him with a huff. “I don’t need to-”
“Haydilon’s Curse, woman.” He growled out, his anger slowly simmering. “Do you know nothing of cursed artifacts? Surely you are not this stupid to think that a mere–” He threw up his hands. “Never mind. We’ve found it. We know it exists and we’re leaving now.”
“Leaving?” She protested. “But-!”
“Yes, leaving. Because if you’d touched, we wouldn’t even exist right now and neither would anything within a five-hundred mile radius. This, young lady, was your first and last excursion.”
“But uncle-!
I’m procastinating right now, but I can’t enjoy it because I know that I’ll have to get back to work eventually, and I won’t get as much done because I spent my time goofing off. This is a curse.
She looked as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, as my mother used to say. The truth was, Gloria could curse like a sailor, and was proud of it. I had to admit, it was one of the reasons I found her so sexy.
it’s a curse, this life. i don’t know what to do, how to live. i want to reak the curse, but how? and will that stop me from living? will i die?
curse a woman, society agrees.
curse a man, society alienates.
there are things you are allowed to speak strongly against. the constant dismissal of your opinion, the constant condescending remarks, the constant hatred we deal with for being born with the wrong genitalia – that is the woman’s curse.
I’ve been cursed with the newbie syndrome where it is painfully evident that I don’t know how to use this thing yet.
That being said, I find it rather enjoyable.
It’s turning darker purple. The curse of time.
This last curse hit him directly in the heart. He suddenly felt the pain of losing the one and only he had ever cared for, because the curse had broken the ice that kept his heart from feeling. He immediately died of a broken heart.