close and then, all at once, closer.
what else may we do but press against,
love against, live against time,
time and space, perimeters and bounds,
thriving endlessly, until we perish.
we are creatures of habit, place;
we are creatures of the night.
Sentenced to jail. Our hero, ladies and gentleman, has been deemed unfit to roam our streets. The crime?
Enlightenment.
Plain and simple, we are not taught to have faith in the seemingly impossible.
We repeat, repeat, regurgitate.
We heave and sigh, and stake no claim
in the continuing cycle, we are taught to run.
We repeat, regurgitate, and yawn when we’re done.
sequestered, in time and space;
not a jot about fairness, rights, or
justice. we are sentenced, to love
and to time; eternity and its pour
drowning in all time. we set the pace.
He was sentenced for life. That was it. His life was thrown away. No more could he be free. He was stuck behind bars forever. He took a shaky breath as he held back his tears.
His advocate didn’t do a great job of saving his life. He did a mistake in life, which he realised it later but still, taking a life of someone just because you were angry and wanted to take revenge is inhuman. After years of trial, Romeo was sentenced to life imprisonment.
Sentenced again to the broken chair in the corner, James tattooed new vocabulary words (learned from his middle school friends) on the desk with a paper clip. It was a pattern now: someone came to close to him or looked at him wrong, he hit the offender with Lunch Box, and then he enjoyed the company of Broken Chair. Worksheets came to his desk, with holes for him to graffiti in, and they came back to him frowning in red marks.
It got him used to his life, fifteen years down the line. All the little prison bricks his new friends, though they didn’t accept his graffiti as easily (no markers). Around then, the numbers started becoming his friends too. He couldn’t explain why, aliens who never quite liked him, but they jumped alive from his worksheet 365×12+366×3 days ago=5478, then forward in time, scrambled up in orderly lines in his mind. They were trying to get his attention: listen to us James. We’re your ticket out.
Sentenced. That’s what she was. there was no getting out of it. She was going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to think about the time she had left, but with ever breath, every blink, another second of her precious life’s time ticked away. She had no way out, nowhere to go, nowehre to run. And that was what made her
He hands me a note scribbled out in his familiar untidy scrawl. But even though it looks like chicken scratch, its content is carefully worded, immaculately-sentenced, and eloquently phrased.
She was sentenced to this from the moment she laid her eyes on it – it drew them like a fish by the hook of a reed caught in it’s throat. Helpless, in a manner of speaking. Completely. Utterly. She was lost in it.
Sentenced. I know people who have been sentenced to go to prison for a long time. As a matter of fact one of my oldest childhood friends is about to get sentenced for murder, and that deeply saddens me.
The sentenced man has the right to think about what he is going to do about his long lined new life. The fact is many are sentenced daily. Unfortunately, they are often unaware of their subject and predicate since at such points their lives are distorted. That of-course relates to those who are truly concerned about their act.
Many are sentenced and never even care to show interest. They see their sentence as something prepared for, since their greatest interest is in the act committed which led to the sentence.
He was sentenced for life. Almost everyone believed he deserved it. Except him. I find it amusing how one could even think they can do so much wrong and not think they deserve to be punished. I mean, how deranged is that? How could he do that to me and believe what he did was okay.
I couldn’t seem to form any sort of words. The sentences wouldn’t come out. Babbling, I sounded high. And, I basically was, just in a different way than you might think.
I really was sentenced to a life like this, wasn’t I?
Jake was sentenced to a minimum of 30 years for assault on a police officer. This made made his father who was also a police officer hang his head with shame. He was at a loss of words for the actions of an adorable young boy turned unstable creature.
the words were sentenced at their inevitable peril to the doom of being compartmentalized within the impossible logical structure, serving someone else’s ends, losing their infinite nature, their impossible capacity to express any number of possibilities, losing their underlying ties to the underlying nature of human subconscious existence as suddenly they were nothing more than the unfortunate meanings of an individual they’d never no, so particulate was he, so wave-form were they they’d never know the nature of the inspiration that drove him to impose such a simple meaning upon them. they were betrayed, their prides shot, the bars of his rib cage the prison cell around his heart
I sentenced myself to remain alone until I was fixed. I could not handle the presence of others in my life. Their closeness hurt me and in my panic to remain emotionally intact I ended up hurting them as well. So I cut myself off from all love, all affection, all the companionship that a human soul requires. I retreated into myself determined to find the broken pieces and glue them back together, to become whole again. For it is only when we are whole and completely ourselves that we can accept the love we deserve and reciprocate that love unto others.
For the past two weeks, I was sentenced to a horrible state of grief. My physical state is slow and uncooperative with my mind, driving me into constant thirst and sickness. I can no longer think straight. I guess the coping I’m experiencing is finally getting to me.
when he was sentenced for kicking that dog, he didn’t think there would be a mob outside. he’d only kicked it far enough to hit another dog, in fact, and that dog had yelled out more than the dog he had kicked. but it was the old ladies who screamed, and demanded he be hauled off to jail. they slapped him several times with their bags.
there was a way to be sentenced in this town, if you found a way to piss off the judge. he didn’t care much one way or another how you found your way into the town, just as long as you stay clear of trouble, and didn’t get too drunk. otherwise, trouble would be easily found either in the courts or on the roads outside.
Sentenced to death…that’s morbid. Life on death row has seemingly become even nicer than it is for some free Americans. Many are homeless and starving. Many people don’t even have the money for a dollar cheeseburger.
Sentenced. Alone once again. A mistake repeated time and time again. She looked out through the chain bars into small window of her holding cell. She thinks to herself, “a sentence is written in stone. Never to be forgotten.”
he was sentenced accordingly, when he saw that the courts weren’t going to give in to his demands for leniency, and he felt that there wasn’t a chance for parole and to pick up the car he’d left at the parking lot. though he loved it more than any girl he’d met. well, except for Katherine.
The judge banged his gavel down repeatedly on the wooden block. Boom, boom boom. It was almost as loud as the ringing in the man’s ears as he gripped the wooden, worn banister in front of him as he hears the words, “Guilty.”
Slowly, slowly, the man sinks to his knees. Somewhere, far off in the distance, he hears his lawyer, a kindly older gentleman, speak into his ear and attempt to pull him back to his feet. There is nothing, now. There had only been her; now, she was gone, and they were convinced that he was the one who had done away with her. She was gone. He would be, too, at the end of a sentence he knew who would not survive. Soon, there would be nothing.
It was as cold as they said it would be. The ice hit him like a wall of frozen hatred. But he was a criminal, and this was his punishment: sentenced to roam the icy wilderness of planet 6.
I had the time of my life, but then it all came to an end when I realized just how badly I messed up. It was one of those things that stopped me dead in my tracks. I had no choice but to accept that my end had come and the judge jury and executioner will have their way with me. It was gut wrenching, but it was reality to deal with.
Your mind is chained, your words shackled. You can no longer speak freely. You are confined to these walls, forced into a prison. Expressing yourself is not something that comes naturally, but an effort.
Welcome to the prison of the sentence.
You should be sentenced to a lifetime in jail for stealing my heart and never returning it, trespassing through my every thought, and for making me go completely insane.
J4L
He was sentenced to an unfortunate solitude. He chose it himself. Nobody could really change that because they too had sentenced themselves to the same life. A life of staying inside. A life of loneliness. A life void of spreading as much love as possible to anyone they met. They did not know how to change this. Some were not even aware. Some just droned along and others did not know how to do otherwise. These people are humans. Most humans. Most of the humans I have encountered droning along this Northern college town. It’s a beautiful place once you open your eyes. No matter where you are. Just open your eyes. Once you do this a couple of times, you will have ameliorated yourself from the sentence of unfortunate solitude that you have placed upon yourself for so long. You may have thought life would just go on as it was, as unsustainable as it may be. Every situation is only how you perceive it. Every situation exists because of you. No one else can change that. You live where you live, feel what you feel, say what you say all because of YOU. All you can do to change this reality is to open your eyes. Pay more attention. Let yourself experience that mundane drive to work for all of the wonder it holds. Look out of that window that you always have blinds covering. You didn’t know or remember how beautiful it was, did you? You don’t have to go around telling everyone exactly how much you love them, that isn’t always realistic. You may scare people away. Do attempt to bring happiness into their lives. Express the love, you don’t always need to say it. Showing it can have such a greater, more creative impact. Do something new every day. Go down a literal or metaphorical road you have not been down. Don’t prepare yourself, just do it.
to death, no longer alive. it’s a heavy sentence. it’s sad, really. but i’m sure you deserved it. killing all those people being put to death maybe it’s life you got, or maybe nothing at all when you deserved it. you will han tomorrow.
little did he know that one night misspent,
retreating into arms that clutched and perhaps loved in their way
would change his life forever,
a child, given away
a reconciliation, a marriage,
two more babies
and a lifetime of bickering, complaining, nagging.
ah to have stayed home instead
If I may be completely honest, sometimes I wish we never met.
If ignorance is bliss, then I’d be happy to forget.
Instead I have been sentenced; forever haunted by the truth
That there is someone as incredible, as extraordinary as you.
This was it. The concrete was cold under his fingertips, rough and porous stone sliding up against the callous pads of his fingers. He leaned his forehead against the wall, taking shallow breaths through his nose. It’s over.
They sentenced me to three years in here. no windows no doors, an enclosed empty space. i can feel my mind slowly drifting into nothing.
they finally gave me a counter. its been 89 days past a year.
You do a line of code from the cracked black of a hardback book and laugh at the cobwebs; parallelograms glistening with dewey decimal drops. The minutes start compilating. As bubbles rise in carbonated bloodstreams your pupils splutter in bandwidth adjustment. They blink the code of obligatory primes then meet mine half way hollow.
I pour another haunted delivery, the mixture a tainted tincture. Our thoughts are tracked and chased down. We are database animals, all surfaces of polished teeth gleaming brutalist in decay. Crystals shattered by disinterest. Silences broken by glass.
close and then, all at once, closer.
what else may we do but press against,
love against, live against time,
time and space, perimeters and bounds,
thriving endlessly, until we perish.
we are creatures of habit, place;
we are creatures of the night.
Sentenced to jail. Our hero, ladies and gentleman, has been deemed unfit to roam our streets. The crime?
Enlightenment.
Plain and simple, we are not taught to have faith in the seemingly impossible.
We repeat, repeat, regurgitate.
We heave and sigh, and stake no claim
in the continuing cycle, we are taught to run.
We repeat, regurgitate, and yawn when we’re done.
sequestered, in time and space;
not a jot about fairness, rights, or
justice. we are sentenced, to love
and to time; eternity and its pour
drowning in all time. we set the pace.
He was sentenced for life. That was it. His life was thrown away. No more could he be free. He was stuck behind bars forever. He took a shaky breath as he held back his tears.
His advocate didn’t do a great job of saving his life. He did a mistake in life, which he realised it later but still, taking a life of someone just because you were angry and wanted to take revenge is inhuman. After years of trial, Romeo was sentenced to life imprisonment.
Sentenced again to the broken chair in the corner, James tattooed new vocabulary words (learned from his middle school friends) on the desk with a paper clip. It was a pattern now: someone came to close to him or looked at him wrong, he hit the offender with Lunch Box, and then he enjoyed the company of Broken Chair. Worksheets came to his desk, with holes for him to graffiti in, and they came back to him frowning in red marks.
It got him used to his life, fifteen years down the line. All the little prison bricks his new friends, though they didn’t accept his graffiti as easily (no markers). Around then, the numbers started becoming his friends too. He couldn’t explain why, aliens who never quite liked him, but they jumped alive from his worksheet 365×12+366×3 days ago=5478, then forward in time, scrambled up in orderly lines in his mind. They were trying to get his attention: listen to us James. We’re your ticket out.
Sentenced. That’s what she was. there was no getting out of it. She was going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to think about the time she had left, but with ever breath, every blink, another second of her precious life’s time ticked away. She had no way out, nowhere to go, nowehre to run. And that was what made her
He hands me a note scribbled out in his familiar untidy scrawl. But even though it looks like chicken scratch, its content is carefully worded, immaculately-sentenced, and eloquently phrased.
She was sentenced to this from the moment she laid her eyes on it – it drew them like a fish by the hook of a reed caught in it’s throat. Helpless, in a manner of speaking. Completely. Utterly. She was lost in it.
Sentenced. I know people who have been sentenced to go to prison for a long time. As a matter of fact one of my oldest childhood friends is about to get sentenced for murder, and that deeply saddens me.
Sentenced to a world of solitude within the marrow surrounding my broken mind.
The sentenced man has the right to think about what he is going to do about his long lined new life. The fact is many are sentenced daily. Unfortunately, they are often unaware of their subject and predicate since at such points their lives are distorted. That of-course relates to those who are truly concerned about their act.
Many are sentenced and never even care to show interest. They see their sentence as something prepared for, since their greatest interest is in the act committed which led to the sentence.
He was sentenced for life. Almost everyone believed he deserved it. Except him. I find it amusing how one could even think they can do so much wrong and not think they deserve to be punished. I mean, how deranged is that? How could he do that to me and believe what he did was okay.
I couldn’t seem to form any sort of words. The sentences wouldn’t come out. Babbling, I sounded high. And, I basically was, just in a different way than you might think.
I really was sentenced to a life like this, wasn’t I?
Jake was sentenced to a minimum of 30 years for assault on a police officer. This made made his father who was also a police officer hang his head with shame. He was at a loss of words for the actions of an adorable young boy turned unstable creature.
the words were sentenced at their inevitable peril to the doom of being compartmentalized within the impossible logical structure, serving someone else’s ends, losing their infinite nature, their impossible capacity to express any number of possibilities, losing their underlying ties to the underlying nature of human subconscious existence as suddenly they were nothing more than the unfortunate meanings of an individual they’d never no, so particulate was he, so wave-form were they they’d never know the nature of the inspiration that drove him to impose such a simple meaning upon them. they were betrayed, their prides shot, the bars of his rib cage the prison cell around his heart
I sentenced myself to remain alone until I was fixed. I could not handle the presence of others in my life. Their closeness hurt me and in my panic to remain emotionally intact I ended up hurting them as well. So I cut myself off from all love, all affection, all the companionship that a human soul requires. I retreated into myself determined to find the broken pieces and glue them back together, to become whole again. For it is only when we are whole and completely ourselves that we can accept the love we deserve and reciprocate that love unto others.
to prison
For the past two weeks, I was sentenced to a horrible state of grief. My physical state is slow and uncooperative with my mind, driving me into constant thirst and sickness. I can no longer think straight. I guess the coping I’m experiencing is finally getting to me.
.;;..;ok
when he was sentenced for kicking that dog, he didn’t think there would be a mob outside. he’d only kicked it far enough to hit another dog, in fact, and that dog had yelled out more than the dog he had kicked. but it was the old ladies who screamed, and demanded he be hauled off to jail. they slapped him several times with their bags.
there was a way to be sentenced in this town, if you found a way to piss off the judge. he didn’t care much one way or another how you found your way into the town, just as long as you stay clear of trouble, and didn’t get too drunk. otherwise, trouble would be easily found either in the courts or on the roads outside.
Sentenced to death…that’s morbid. Life on death row has seemingly become even nicer than it is for some free Americans. Many are homeless and starving. Many people don’t even have the money for a dollar cheeseburger.
Sentenced. Alone once again. A mistake repeated time and time again. She looked out through the chain bars into small window of her holding cell. She thinks to herself, “a sentence is written in stone. Never to be forgotten.”
he was sentenced accordingly, when he saw that the courts weren’t going to give in to his demands for leniency, and he felt that there wasn’t a chance for parole and to pick up the car he’d left at the parking lot. though he loved it more than any girl he’d met. well, except for Katherine.
I had been sentenced to twenty years of persecution, and spent it being a Liverpool fan in an Everton Household.
The judge banged his gavel down repeatedly on the wooden block. Boom, boom boom. It was almost as loud as the ringing in the man’s ears as he gripped the wooden, worn banister in front of him as he hears the words, “Guilty.”
Slowly, slowly, the man sinks to his knees. Somewhere, far off in the distance, he hears his lawyer, a kindly older gentleman, speak into his ear and attempt to pull him back to his feet. There is nothing, now. There had only been her; now, she was gone, and they were convinced that he was the one who had done away with her. She was gone. He would be, too, at the end of a sentence he knew who would not survive. Soon, there would be nothing.
It was as cold as they said it would be. The ice hit him like a wall of frozen hatred. But he was a criminal, and this was his punishment: sentenced to roam the icy wilderness of planet 6.
I had the time of my life, but then it all came to an end when I realized just how badly I messed up. It was one of those things that stopped me dead in my tracks. I had no choice but to accept that my end had come and the judge jury and executioner will have their way with me. It was gut wrenching, but it was reality to deal with.
That word always reminds me of prisons. “Insert criminal here was sentenced to blah blah years in prison for committing blah crime.”
Your mind is chained, your words shackled. You can no longer speak freely. You are confined to these walls, forced into a prison. Expressing yourself is not something that comes naturally, but an effort.
Welcome to the prison of the sentence.
You should be sentenced to a lifetime in jail for stealing my heart and never returning it, trespassing through my every thought, and for making me go completely insane.
J4L
The man walked into the courtroom for what was to be the last time. It was his sentencing.
Silence. The man could here nothing, but he saw the judges lips. He had been sentenced to death.
He was sentenced to an unfortunate solitude. He chose it himself. Nobody could really change that because they too had sentenced themselves to the same life. A life of staying inside. A life of loneliness. A life void of spreading as much love as possible to anyone they met. They did not know how to change this. Some were not even aware. Some just droned along and others did not know how to do otherwise. These people are humans. Most humans. Most of the humans I have encountered droning along this Northern college town. It’s a beautiful place once you open your eyes. No matter where you are. Just open your eyes. Once you do this a couple of times, you will have ameliorated yourself from the sentence of unfortunate solitude that you have placed upon yourself for so long. You may have thought life would just go on as it was, as unsustainable as it may be. Every situation is only how you perceive it. Every situation exists because of you. No one else can change that. You live where you live, feel what you feel, say what you say all because of YOU. All you can do to change this reality is to open your eyes. Pay more attention. Let yourself experience that mundane drive to work for all of the wonder it holds. Look out of that window that you always have blinds covering. You didn’t know or remember how beautiful it was, did you? You don’t have to go around telling everyone exactly how much you love them, that isn’t always realistic. You may scare people away. Do attempt to bring happiness into their lives. Express the love, you don’t always need to say it. Showing it can have such a greater, more creative impact. Do something new every day. Go down a literal or metaphorical road you have not been down. Don’t prepare yourself, just do it.
to death, no longer alive. it’s a heavy sentence. it’s sad, really. but i’m sure you deserved it. killing all those people being put to death maybe it’s life you got, or maybe nothing at all when you deserved it. you will han tomorrow.
little did he know that one night misspent,
retreating into arms that clutched and perhaps loved in their way
would change his life forever,
a child, given away
a reconciliation, a marriage,
two more babies
and a lifetime of bickering, complaining, nagging.
ah to have stayed home instead
If I may be completely honest, sometimes I wish we never met.
If ignorance is bliss, then I’d be happy to forget.
Instead I have been sentenced; forever haunted by the truth
That there is someone as incredible, as extraordinary as you.
This was it. The concrete was cold under his fingertips, rough and porous stone sliding up against the callous pads of his fingers. He leaned his forehead against the wall, taking shallow breaths through his nose. It’s over.
They sentenced me to three years in here. no windows no doors, an enclosed empty space. i can feel my mind slowly drifting into nothing.
they finally gave me a counter. its been 89 days past a year.
You do a line of code from the cracked black of a hardback book and laugh at the cobwebs; parallelograms glistening with dewey decimal drops. The minutes start compilating. As bubbles rise in carbonated bloodstreams your pupils splutter in bandwidth adjustment. They blink the code of obligatory primes then meet mine half way hollow.
I pour another haunted delivery, the mixture a tainted tincture. Our thoughts are tracked and chased down. We are database animals, all surfaces of polished teeth gleaming brutalist in decay. Crystals shattered by disinterest. Silences broken by glass.