They resumed the dance of blades under the ersatz guidance of the fluorescents, their hearts leaping at the alternating singsong of their foils and the ragged music of their breaths. Fencing is their favorite pes de deux, because in it, he is hers, and she is his–the world doesn’t own them for a few violent minutes. The coldness of their swords’ handles usually seep into their skins, but it goes unnoticed, overlapped by their desires to cleave each other’s shells of apathy. Their masks. Their perpetual facades.
By the end of every duel, they leave each other soul-naked.
White picket fences. Tree in front with a tire swing. Dog lazily laying on the porch. Dad coming home with flowers for mom. Mom with an apron, slightly covered in flour. The American dream.
Don’t think I’m totally interested in this scenario.
I don’t know why we did it. We just went for it. We ran in, grabbed some stuff, and out we were. It was dumb. We were dumb. But we grabbed them and ran.
We went to the back and started jumping the fences. It was cool for the first few minutes, the rush was amazing. But then he fell, and I kept running. I just kept on running. They had me within ten minutes.
I should’ve known. It was so dumb. We were so dumb.
Fences mark the dividing line between certain things. Down on Smith is where I mostly like to walk. The fences that line the street are pretty and white, with delicate trees overhanging them. Tom Sawyer could have whitewashed one of those fences.
they’re long, tall things that can stretch for miles at a time. fences. the things we put up all around us to block those we love out. we put up fences around us so we don’t have to feel any thing. So we don’t get hurt. But, in the end all they do is make us feel worse, and more alone than ever.
It’s the perfect picture we ladies all dream of. The cute cottage, the green lawn with our children playing outside on it in the sunshine. All surrounded by -yes- a white picket fence.
Make good neighbors. They make 1 wall of a fort. They keep prying eyes out of your business. They keep us from spying on our neighbors. A broken fence can make a good secret door. Vines crawling up them make for beautiful backdrops. Too heavy vines make them fall down. White picket fences have fallen out of fashion. Coyote fences don’t really keep coyotes out. There’s a fine line between a fence and a wall.
Wrought iron fences surround the mansion. Not white picket, like she’s expected. Maybe she had underestimated him after all. It seems that he does, in fact, think about some degree of security. or perhaps he simply has a slightly more morbid aesthetic than is normal for a a millionaire.
Fences can be a good thing. We like to keep sacred what is sacred. I have a fence around my heart. It’s easier and harder. I want to let people in, but they do not all deserve access. Only certain people should have an impact on my life.
In some situations you become trapped between two choices. As if you have reached a fork in the road. But once you have made the choice as to which direction you should go, you may begin to question it. With every step you take, it gets worse and worse. You start to wonder what would have happened if you had taken the other path. Sometimes that path is a person you have let go. Once you walk away from them, you miss them deeply. You wonder if you should try to contact them; what would happen if you did and what would they say? Yet, you walk further and further away from it ever happening. All because you don’t think any good will come from it. Maybe the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. Perhaps, all you need to do is add more water.
Build them up, tear them down. No, they are not walls. Walls shut people out. Walls push people away. But fences? It means you’re just waiting for the right person to jump over the edge and find you.
Everywhere, everywhere, there are fences. Keep the dog away from the gardenias. Keep the child away from the street. Keep them here. Here where we can see them. Here where we can monitor and mold them. Here where they are safe. Lock them up, and throw away the key. Hold them close, build the fences just a half an inch, a foot, three feet, twelve feet closer, closer closer closer. Keep them trapped here, between my ribcage and my heart. Trapped between strength and vulnerability. Here, where I can feel their chests rise and fall against my own. Here, where I will know the second their hearts stop beating. The second there is trouble. Build your fences high, and build them strong. Let them brush the treetops. Let them punch holes in the clouds. Make them picket. No chain link. Fill in the gaps with concrete. Hire a company. Let no light shine through. Wrap a lock around the gate. Bury the key underneath the gardenias. Let the dog stand watch. Day and night, day and night. Keep the key away from the kids. And keep the kids away from the world. Keep them here. Here where we can monitor and mold them. Here where we can save and salvage them. Keep them here, where we can be sure they stay alive.
He’s running his pencil along the white picket fence, and he wonders, “If you unroll a bicycle tire along a playing card, does it sound like this?” It does.
Birds chirp. It is sunset.
He is lost.
He sits down and waits hopefully for his mother’s voice.
a boy left alone in the world
a pain that you cannot bear anymore
a last breath of freshness
a goodbye strung out
a sigh
a relief
a good
byeeeeeee
say it…
goodbye…
good…
bye….to
a boy left alone in the world
a pain that you cannot bear anymore
a last breath of freshness
a goodbye strung out
a sigh
a relief
good…
riddance…
say it…
good bye good riddance to
i’m on the fence about a lot of things
its been 3 weeks since i first started loving you
day 18, of thinking of you only
i didn’t know how time would past, since that first night
i didn’t know how i would last
i guess it goes to show, just how fast it looks after you’ve gone through it
what am i saying. its raining. i should go outside and drown my sins in the angel’s tears, wash it all away, come again another day. i’ve sinned enough to make the rain last for a million days.
pretty white pickett fences beautiful imagination life pure love sureity i understand it feeling like u are just sitting there all day staring into cyberspace something misunderstood
I believe that my neighbor’s fence was put there for a reason. It wasn’t to keep me and the other neighborhood kids out – no it was for a far more insidious reason than that. I kept hearing growls coming from within the fence interior, but I never could see what was in there. It wasn’t a dog, I know that for sure. It sounded — human. Only not.
Hoping fences seems to be a common pass time for young people theses days. I look out of my window and always see youngins hopping a rickety chain link fence to get into this burned house. They think that there is something so magical about that house. I just don’t understand it.
Psst? Wanna buy a watch? Come down this alley way just a little. Sure they all work. Genuine. Look at this leather strap. Real leather. The mechanism on this model is to die for (oh well, the last owner did anyway…oops). What about this ladies jewel-face for your wife? No wife? Girlfriend surely? Your mother? Who knew I’d make a career out of becoming one of Fast Louie’s best fences.
The fences were the only thing in the
Way now. I had gotten by everything else. As I ran trees, high grasses, and falling leaves were blurred in my vision. All I knew is that I was going to run until all those feelings inside, all that hurt and pain, went away…
there are fences up blocking you from my heart
you have the key to open my heart
it is yours to keep the fence blocks you
all you have too do is unlock my heart and it is yoursi
So many of them built around me. When you manage to climb over them or pick their locks — I don’t make it easy to breech them, or why put them up at all — there are only all the more around my heart. I just don’t — can’t? — let anyone in.
Running as if from the devil itself she zigg-zagged through alleys, slid around corners, and ducked under fire escapes. Someone was chasing her and she didn’t know why. All she knew was her instincts were telling her to get the hell out of there. Just as she thought she had a chance of loosing her pursuers she came across an alley segmented with fences.
When I think of you
I find myself contained
News like fire is spreading down the lane
Delivered like a paper that’s been impaled upon the fence
Sometimes I wonder if you’ll ever look me in the eyes again
you build fences around yourself. Since i love you, i try to knock them down. only to find that green grass that is your soul. When i am able to find the grass, it is yellow; dried and dead. But yet, since i love you, i take water and make your grass green again. This way, you wont have to hide behind your fence anymore.
the fences are really tall all around. four sides, no spots missing, extra high in the corners, it was about privacy and safety. no hard feelings towards the neighbors, everyone understood what they had to do, and if everyone did just what they felt for them and their families, the thought was everything would be alright.
holding people in. containing things. feelings are trapped inside these fences, and they can’t get out. fences are either holding you back or keeping you in, but it is your decision to decide what these fences mean and how they will impact your life. a fence stands sturdy throughout the day, but are you capable of knocking it down?
An acceptable reason for having to fix the broken-down fences was that they had been mauled by a tractor.
The unacceptable bit of this, of course, was the fact that the fences had been MAULED by a tractor.
His father couldn’t understand why Benny would have ever been mauling down fences with his old farm tractor, and his mother couldn’t understand why Benny would have been in the tractor in the first place.
Benny, youngest of three, had never been considered as the sort of boy who would be living in a tractor.
ill stand just inside the window, with the lace curtains, over the sink
there wont be a paved road for miles and miles and miles
just dust blowing in the wind, weaving in and out through the tall grass
crocheting a quilt of the sky’s breath
ill stare out that window over a white picket fence
and ill wait for you to come home.
a perfect white fence covers their tangled yard, and for a moment, everything is okay. inside, the people are broken. they need something to hold them together, to dilute the pain that seeps through the cracks.
it was a white picket fence that separated me from mrs. mullen’s yard. I watched her sometimes, going back and forth in that overgrown dirty yard of hers, looking for something that had been lost there. something that was buried there, something she could not forget, I felt bad for her as she walked to and fro even in the snow and the cold head shaking back and forth, mourning the loss of something.
“Fences?” The horse snorted. “Do they really think mere fences can keep me in here?” There was a toss of the majestic head, the coppery mane streaming out in the afternoon breeze.
Her handler, the equally redheaded human, merely shrugged. “I don’t know, Fen. You’re lucky they let you have me as it is.” She stroked the sunny muzzle and smiled at the answering whicker. “Besides, you know it’s expensive to have a Horse Whisperer in the first place, you should be glad they scrape enough together to bring me here.”
Fen snorted again, pawing at the ground in agitation. “Why’d you have to be so expensive then? Why can’t you be nicer?”
“Nicer doesn’t get results.” The redhead sighed. “It just gets…fences.”
Like the book I read about family ties. Fences always remind me of things coming together. The more literal sense insteas of the fidurative way. Fences are the bond in which we create it to be. Life would it better with fences.
They resumed the dance of blades under the ersatz guidance of the fluorescents, their hearts leaping at the alternating singsong of their foils and the ragged music of their breaths. Fencing is their favorite pes de deux, because in it, he is hers, and she is his–the world doesn’t own them for a few violent minutes. The coldness of their swords’ handles usually seep into their skins, but it goes unnoticed, overlapped by their desires to cleave each other’s shells of apathy. Their masks. Their perpetual facades.
By the end of every duel, they leave each other soul-naked.
White picket fences. Tree in front with a tire swing. Dog lazily laying on the porch. Dad coming home with flowers for mom. Mom with an apron, slightly covered in flour. The American dream.
Don’t think I’m totally interested in this scenario.
I don’t know why we did it. We just went for it. We ran in, grabbed some stuff, and out we were. It was dumb. We were dumb. But we grabbed them and ran.
We went to the back and started jumping the fences. It was cool for the first few minutes, the rush was amazing. But then he fell, and I kept running. I just kept on running. They had me within ten minutes.
I should’ve known. It was so dumb. We were so dumb.
The American way is the way of the fence. Keep the others out. Your brood is sacred, and must be defended from those on the other side.
Its a binary world, and those who make an attempt to cross over are reviled.
No longer can we build the fences higher.
It’s time to knock them down.
do fences really do what they are built for? Cyote fences don’t keep the cyotes out.
Fences mark the dividing line between certain things. Down on Smith is where I mostly like to walk. The fences that line the street are pretty and white, with delicate trees overhanging them. Tom Sawyer could have whitewashed one of those fences.
they’re long, tall things that can stretch for miles at a time. fences. the things we put up all around us to block those we love out. we put up fences around us so we don’t have to feel any thing. So we don’t get hurt. But, in the end all they do is make us feel worse, and more alone than ever.
It’s the perfect picture we ladies all dream of. The cute cottage, the green lawn with our children playing outside on it in the sunshine. All surrounded by -yes- a white picket fence.
they are awesomeeee..I like the white kind…they keep stuff out of my yard, like dogs..and don’t forget, people! wax on, wax off
She felt like the depression was fencing her in. “All these fencing…keeping me from actually leaving the yard.” She thought.
bound by fences
boundaries
yet still so close
i feel you inside
do i dare cross?
could the grass be greener
fences
invisible but so strong
Make good neighbors. They make 1 wall of a fort. They keep prying eyes out of your business. They keep us from spying on our neighbors. A broken fence can make a good secret door. Vines crawling up them make for beautiful backdrops. Too heavy vines make them fall down. White picket fences have fallen out of fashion. Coyote fences don’t really keep coyotes out. There’s a fine line between a fence and a wall.
Wrought iron fences surround the mansion. Not white picket, like she’s expected. Maybe she had underestimated him after all. It seems that he does, in fact, think about some degree of security. or perhaps he simply has a slightly more morbid aesthetic than is normal for a a millionaire.
Fences can be a good thing. We like to keep sacred what is sacred. I have a fence around my heart. It’s easier and harder. I want to let people in, but they do not all deserve access. Only certain people should have an impact on my life.
In some situations you become trapped between two choices. As if you have reached a fork in the road. But once you have made the choice as to which direction you should go, you may begin to question it. With every step you take, it gets worse and worse. You start to wonder what would have happened if you had taken the other path. Sometimes that path is a person you have let go. Once you walk away from them, you miss them deeply. You wonder if you should try to contact them; what would happen if you did and what would they say? Yet, you walk further and further away from it ever happening. All because you don’t think any good will come from it. Maybe the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. Perhaps, all you need to do is add more water.
Build them up, tear them down. No, they are not walls. Walls shut people out. Walls push people away. But fences? It means you’re just waiting for the right person to jump over the edge and find you.
Fences border us…confine us. We try to stand upon them, but we teeter and we totter. Our balance is off.
Everywhere, everywhere, there are fences. Keep the dog away from the gardenias. Keep the child away from the street. Keep them here. Here where we can see them. Here where we can monitor and mold them. Here where they are safe. Lock them up, and throw away the key. Hold them close, build the fences just a half an inch, a foot, three feet, twelve feet closer, closer closer closer. Keep them trapped here, between my ribcage and my heart. Trapped between strength and vulnerability. Here, where I can feel their chests rise and fall against my own. Here, where I will know the second their hearts stop beating. The second there is trouble. Build your fences high, and build them strong. Let them brush the treetops. Let them punch holes in the clouds. Make them picket. No chain link. Fill in the gaps with concrete. Hire a company. Let no light shine through. Wrap a lock around the gate. Bury the key underneath the gardenias. Let the dog stand watch. Day and night, day and night. Keep the key away from the kids. And keep the kids away from the world. Keep them here. Here where we can monitor and mold them. Here where we can save and salvage them. Keep them here, where we can be sure they stay alive.
He’s running his pencil along the white picket fence, and he wonders, “If you unroll a bicycle tire along a playing card, does it sound like this?” It does.
Birds chirp. It is sunset.
He is lost.
He sits down and waits hopefully for his mother’s voice.
fences are like relationships; half the time is spent building them the other half is spent maintaining them while other people try and jump over it.
a boy left alone in the world
a pain that you cannot bear anymore
a last breath of freshness
a goodbye strung out
a sigh
a relief
a good
byeeeeeee
say it…
goodbye…
good…
bye….to
a boy left alone in the world
a pain that you cannot bear anymore
a last breath of freshness
a goodbye strung out
a sigh
a relief
good…
riddance…
say it…
good bye good riddance to
i’m on the fence about a lot of things
its been 3 weeks since i first started loving you
day 18, of thinking of you only
i didn’t know how time would past, since that first night
i didn’t know how i would last
i guess it goes to show, just how fast it looks after you’ve gone through it
what am i saying. its raining. i should go outside and drown my sins in the angel’s tears, wash it all away, come again another day. i’ve sinned enough to make the rain last for a million days.
pretty white pickett fences beautiful imagination life pure love sureity i understand it feeling like u are just sitting there all day staring into cyberspace something misunderstood
I believe that my neighbor’s fence was put there for a reason. It wasn’t to keep me and the other neighborhood kids out – no it was for a far more insidious reason than that. I kept hearing growls coming from within the fence interior, but I never could see what was in there. It wasn’t a dog, I know that for sure. It sounded — human. Only not.
Hoping fences seems to be a common pass time for young people theses days. I look out of my window and always see youngins hopping a rickety chain link fence to get into this burned house. They think that there is something so magical about that house. I just don’t understand it.
Psst? Wanna buy a watch? Come down this alley way just a little. Sure they all work. Genuine. Look at this leather strap. Real leather. The mechanism on this model is to die for (oh well, the last owner did anyway…oops). What about this ladies jewel-face for your wife? No wife? Girlfriend surely? Your mother? Who knew I’d make a career out of becoming one of Fast Louie’s best fences.
The fences were the only thing in the
Way now. I had gotten by everything else. As I ran trees, high grasses, and falling leaves were blurred in my vision. All I knew is that I was going to run until all those feelings inside, all that hurt and pain, went away…
there are fences up blocking you from my heart
you have the key to open my heart
it is yours to keep the fence blocks you
all you have too do is unlock my heart and it is yoursi
So many of them built around me. When you manage to climb over them or pick their locks — I don’t make it easy to breech them, or why put them up at all — there are only all the more around my heart. I just don’t — can’t? — let anyone in.
Running as if from the devil itself she zigg-zagged through alleys, slid around corners, and ducked under fire escapes. Someone was chasing her and she didn’t know why. All she knew was her instincts were telling her to get the hell out of there. Just as she thought she had a chance of loosing her pursuers she came across an alley segmented with fences.
When I think of you
I find myself contained
News like fire is spreading down the lane
Delivered like a paper that’s been impaled upon the fence
Sometimes I wonder if you’ll ever look me in the eyes again
you build fences around yourself. Since i love you, i try to knock them down. only to find that green grass that is your soul. When i am able to find the grass, it is yellow; dried and dead. But yet, since i love you, i take water and make your grass green again. This way, you wont have to hide behind your fence anymore.
the fences are really tall all around. four sides, no spots missing, extra high in the corners, it was about privacy and safety. no hard feelings towards the neighbors, everyone understood what they had to do, and if everyone did just what they felt for them and their families, the thought was everything would be alright.
holding people in. containing things. feelings are trapped inside these fences, and they can’t get out. fences are either holding you back or keeping you in, but it is your decision to decide what these fences mean and how they will impact your life. a fence stands sturdy throughout the day, but are you capable of knocking it down?
An acceptable reason for having to fix the broken-down fences was that they had been mauled by a tractor.
The unacceptable bit of this, of course, was the fact that the fences had been MAULED by a tractor.
His father couldn’t understand why Benny would have ever been mauling down fences with his old farm tractor, and his mother couldn’t understand why Benny would have been in the tractor in the first place.
Benny, youngest of three, had never been considered as the sort of boy who would be living in a tractor.
He’d always been what one called a Momma’s boy…
ill stand just inside the window, with the lace curtains, over the sink
there wont be a paved road for miles and miles and miles
just dust blowing in the wind, weaving in and out through the tall grass
crocheting a quilt of the sky’s breath
ill stare out that window over a white picket fence
and ill wait for you to come home.
a perfect white fence covers their tangled yard, and for a moment, everything is okay. inside, the people are broken. they need something to hold them together, to dilute the pain that seeps through the cracks.
it was a white picket fence that separated me from mrs. mullen’s yard. I watched her sometimes, going back and forth in that overgrown dirty yard of hers, looking for something that had been lost there. something that was buried there, something she could not forget, I felt bad for her as she walked to and fro even in the snow and the cold head shaking back and forth, mourning the loss of something.
“Fences?” The horse snorted. “Do they really think mere fences can keep me in here?” There was a toss of the majestic head, the coppery mane streaming out in the afternoon breeze.
Her handler, the equally redheaded human, merely shrugged. “I don’t know, Fen. You’re lucky they let you have me as it is.” She stroked the sunny muzzle and smiled at the answering whicker. “Besides, you know it’s expensive to have a Horse Whisperer in the first place, you should be glad they scrape enough together to bring me here.”
Fen snorted again, pawing at the ground in agitation. “Why’d you have to be so expensive then? Why can’t you be nicer?”
“Nicer doesn’t get results.” The redhead sighed. “It just gets…fences.”
Like the book I read about family ties. Fences always remind me of things coming together. The more literal sense insteas of the fidurative way. Fences are the bond in which we create it to be. Life would it better with fences.