That’s the last straw! I can’t live my life this way anymore. All this intentional sin brings me down into the pit or despair. Thank God He’s rescued me from his wrath by the death and resurrection of His Son Jesus Christ. Now I live fully assured that I will live in the presence of the only God for all eternity.
Sipping from a straw, as quickly as I could only to put myself in utter danger. I had encountered one of the worst traumas, a brain freeze. The uncomfortable sensation of a deep headache that causes a minor freakout as you search for answers as to what you did to these cold drinks to make them hate you so.
slightest irritation growing
whilst I fondle around
like a moron
hands begininning to bleed
slightest frustration growing
belittled
looking for a needle
at this point, I’m gonna poke you in the eye
The straw was bent and had been dented by gnawing teeth, whose mouth was sucking impatiently at the drink. The straw had also been dye a light orange, for it was a cheap straw that had been sitting in an orange drink for a while.
That’s it, that’s all I can take. I give up. I am tired of trying. I don’t care enough to keep at it anymore. The whole thing was a straw house, and that straw was the last one, it was the one that broke the camel’s back, and I am tired of clutching at them desperately. I am tired of trying to find a reason to keep making excuses. I love myself enough to let it go, let it drift away like dry straw released into the wind.
I suck the cold water through my straw
i can feel the coldness of the water
hitting my warm tongue.
i hate it when i try to drink
hot chocolate with a straw-
it burns my mouth
and then i can’t feel my tongue
for days.
I look just like a straw, and the most probable thing is that I will look like that for all of my life. I’m not sure if I should call it a blessing or a curse, although everyone says they’ll be happy to switch places.
if i could make a sculpture out of all of the unopened, wasted straws at work that i have to throw away even though they are probably still sanitary, I could eventually make a beautiful replica of the tower of London.
The straw in my hat flaps as the wind picks it off of my head. “Hey!” I cry, shaking my fist in the air as if the breeze can see my exasperation. I stomp my foot into the rough soil. “That’s the fifth hat this week.”
Thats hardly fair to me is it? i mean that has got to be the last straw. Im done with it, absolutely unforgiveable. My mother?! What could he possibly have been thinking. I mean i love her, but at this point in her life she’s not what she used to be.
I just got straw.
I don’t want to have this damn straw.
I already sucked the juice out of everyone that I can.
I am DONE with this damn straw.
Leave me be.
i can never find straws when i need them most. it’s almost as if they have become the small, subtle way to enjoy drinks that i know i will never get to appreciate. but whenever im scrammbling for a zip-lock cover, down come millions of purple and blue and neon green bendy straws thhat cover my entire kitchen floor, costing me 15 minutes and the constant trixy refelction of the straws i never seem to have.
They’re all looking. They ask questions, prod at her skin, assess her with cool, calculating eyes. Some sneer, curling their lips into an ugly judgement. Others stay neutral, the hum of disdain confined to their skulls. She locks her jaw in defiance. Head held high, steely countenance, looking down her nose at the jury of life.
When they back off, murmur quietly among themselves and drift away with the promise of returning, she slumps. The mask falls off, and she turns from their line of sight, releasing breathe from her lungs.
A hand runs underneath her shirt, pushes into the skin and shifts the straw that lies there. They will never know.
I’m not going to take him back this time. My bags are packed and I sold my old car and I’m going back home. The bruise is no longer swelling, but it’s hot to the touch and I can’t see all the well. I can’t let this go any further.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was a day in July, when we were sitting under the stars on a blanket Molly brought us, staring upward as fireworks exploded. And he said, “God, that’s so beautiful.” And I thought, ‘Why the hell not?’ and then I kissed him. And maybe I shouldn’t have – I mean, there were a shit ton of reasons not to, but for some reason kissing him felt like the only thing I could do in that moment. And fuck it if Ryan and Alex and Molly and everyone was watching.
there is a lot ovf straw in the horses mouth they like it a lot. i love horses they are calm and nice and feel soft. when im with them i feel at home. i feel like there is more meening to my life than everyone else says i thinkt that with horses i am truly me, what i am ment to be. :) :) :) i want to be with them forever and ever. Breigh
“That’s the last straw, Jerry!” I screamed as I threw my cell phone at him. Not the best tool, but I had asked for a mocha frappé at the café. He got me a caramel frappé. CARMEL!! How dare he…
This is not the last straw.
You continue to pay for the joint credit card bills that don’t stop being used for booze and tolls.
‘This is not the last straw,’ you tell yourself.
None of this can suggest that the worst is happening.
None of this can explain his sudden disinterest.
I like straws. I chew on them. Whenever I get a drink at a restaurant I keep the straw for like the next three hours and just chew on it. It’s quite entertaining. It gets all flat with holes in it.
I sipped through the straw that allowed me to taste your juices.
You were sweet.
You were sour.
You were bitter.
You were fulfilling.
I thank God for that straw.
As Elijah walked on the beach by himself, he noticed the sand getting stuck on his wet toes. Small things like this really bothered him, and he continued to be annoyed with all of the places sand stuck to bodies. That is, until he saw the woman in the straw hat who was sitting in the sun by herself…
I am a straw. People use me all the time. I get put with a bunch of my friends and then one day I am taken away from them and submerged into a cold liquid of my grabbers choice. It’s tough being a straw, sometimes I wish I was a cup.
I never thought to say it, but I’m in love with him, Straw. So like me, to fall for the one I will never have, the one who passes me each and every day without a car in the world. How nice it must be, to be him, Straw.
My heart is a house made of straw. One strong gust of wind and you might blow it over. Pieces scattered around, remains of what one was. Left to rebuild and relearn. Why does life keep trying to teach me lessons that I never want to learn?
something I drink out of. I don’t usually spend money on them, but I feel like I’m being treated when I get them at an establishment or something of the such. They are cylindrical, like many other tings in like. Trees are cylindrical, they provide us with air. How nice of them!
The straw made her scalp itch, where it was stuck in her hair at all angles. She couldn’t bring herself to remove this last remnant of the rollicking, after her joy and her sweat and her tremblings were gone.
It climbed slowly out of the straw heap, one long hairy leg following the other in jerky movements, and made it’s way up the back of her shirt but she was too focused on yelling at me to notice. Her face was purple and blotchy from all her crying and her voice strained and high as she demanded that I tell her why it was my life’s mission to make her miserable but my focus was riveted as the eight hairy legs made their ascent.
again fucking straws? why are there so many straws in the air?, i mean, who has this magical power to make flying straws!? Some weird shit happening here and i don’t understand why straws are the key to understanding the universe. My universe is a straw.
Why do I always get straw? It’s like no other words exist on this website! I always get straw, every single freaking time! Its rather irritating…. maybe I should go on strike or sign a petition or maybe I should start a political party about it. IDK but straws are become a very negative object. Every time I see one I’m going to remember this and cry. Cry myself to sleep. And its all because of you “Oneword.” I hate you.
We had a conversation about straws once. It was silly really. But maybe not. That was one of the first times we talked about children. And you told me you were scared you wouldn’t know how to teach them simple things like drinking from a straw. It was adorable. And utterly endearing.
so i was in the cafeteria where the straws were flying in the air like popcorn out of the microwave, it was interesting but also scary because what the fuck, Flying straws!
That was the final straw. Time after time, she let him get away with this. The late calls, the early escapes, the excuses as to why he wasn’t at dinner. But not anymore, not any longer. As she stared at him through the window, laughing with a nameless woman, she took her last look at him. This would be the last time she ever saw him.
Straw will bring hope to the horses who have worked for so long. Straw fields bring in work which will soon pay workers who have collected Straw. Straw. A food that provides proposes for others.
Sometimes you run through the day frantically trying to get things done. Sometimes that never happens. Sometimes shit happens. Sometimes you draw the last straw. Sometimes the first. Whatever straw you draw. Make good use of it.
That’s the last straw! I can’t live my life this way anymore. All this intentional sin brings me down into the pit or despair. Thank God He’s rescued me from his wrath by the death and resurrection of His Son Jesus Christ. Now I live fully assured that I will live in the presence of the only God for all eternity.
Sipping from a straw, as quickly as I could only to put myself in utter danger. I had encountered one of the worst traumas, a brain freeze. The uncomfortable sensation of a deep headache that causes a minor freakout as you search for answers as to what you did to these cold drinks to make them hate you so.
slightest irritation growing
whilst I fondle around
like a moron
hands begininning to bleed
slightest frustration growing
belittled
looking for a needle
at this point, I’m gonna poke you in the eye
The straw was bent and had been dented by gnawing teeth, whose mouth was sucking impatiently at the drink. The straw had also been dye a light orange, for it was a cheap straw that had been sitting in an orange drink for a while.
My rabbit chops and chomps and chomps. She doesn’t stop eating! Whether it’s pellets, fruit, veges or straw, she doesn’t stop! Om num num.
That’s it, that’s all I can take. I give up. I am tired of trying. I don’t care enough to keep at it anymore. The whole thing was a straw house, and that straw was the last one, it was the one that broke the camel’s back, and I am tired of clutching at them desperately. I am tired of trying to find a reason to keep making excuses. I love myself enough to let it go, let it drift away like dry straw released into the wind.
I suck the cold water through my straw
i can feel the coldness of the water
hitting my warm tongue.
i hate it when i try to drink
hot chocolate with a straw-
it burns my mouth
and then i can’t feel my tongue
for days.
I look just like a straw, and the most probable thing is that I will look like that for all of my life. I’m not sure if I should call it a blessing or a curse, although everyone says they’ll be happy to switch places.
if i could make a sculpture out of all of the unopened, wasted straws at work that i have to throw away even though they are probably still sanitary, I could eventually make a beautiful replica of the tower of London.
The straw in my hat flaps as the wind picks it off of my head. “Hey!” I cry, shaking my fist in the air as if the breeze can see my exasperation. I stomp my foot into the rough soil. “That’s the fifth hat this week.”
Thats hardly fair to me is it? i mean that has got to be the last straw. Im done with it, absolutely unforgiveable. My mother?! What could he possibly have been thinking. I mean i love her, but at this point in her life she’s not what she used to be.
I just got straw.
I don’t want to have this damn straw.
I already sucked the juice out of everyone that I can.
I am DONE with this damn straw.
Leave me be.
i can never find straws when i need them most. it’s almost as if they have become the small, subtle way to enjoy drinks that i know i will never get to appreciate. but whenever im scrammbling for a zip-lock cover, down come millions of purple and blue and neon green bendy straws thhat cover my entire kitchen floor, costing me 15 minutes and the constant trixy refelction of the straws i never seem to have.
They’re all looking. They ask questions, prod at her skin, assess her with cool, calculating eyes. Some sneer, curling their lips into an ugly judgement. Others stay neutral, the hum of disdain confined to their skulls. She locks her jaw in defiance. Head held high, steely countenance, looking down her nose at the jury of life.
When they back off, murmur quietly among themselves and drift away with the promise of returning, she slumps. The mask falls off, and she turns from their line of sight, releasing breathe from her lungs.
A hand runs underneath her shirt, pushes into the skin and shifts the straw that lies there. They will never know.
I’m not going to take him back this time. My bags are packed and I sold my old car and I’m going back home. The bruise is no longer swelling, but it’s hot to the touch and I can’t see all the well. I can’t let this go any further.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was a day in July, when we were sitting under the stars on a blanket Molly brought us, staring upward as fireworks exploded. And he said, “God, that’s so beautiful.” And I thought, ‘Why the hell not?’ and then I kissed him. And maybe I shouldn’t have – I mean, there were a shit ton of reasons not to, but for some reason kissing him felt like the only thing I could do in that moment. And fuck it if Ryan and Alex and Molly and everyone was watching.
every so often i feel like
i’ve reached the final straw
i can stand
in a haystack of
let-downs
failures
disappointments.
but then i see the glint
of a needle
and i continue fighting
against them.
there is a lot ovf straw in the horses mouth they like it a lot. i love horses they are calm and nice and feel soft. when im with them i feel at home. i feel like there is more meening to my life than everyone else says i thinkt that with horses i am truly me, what i am ment to be. :) :) :) i want to be with them forever and ever. Breigh
“That’s the last straw, Jerry!” I screamed as I threw my cell phone at him. Not the best tool, but I had asked for a mocha frappé at the café. He got me a caramel frappé. CARMEL!! How dare he…
This is not the last straw.
You continue to pay for the joint credit card bills that don’t stop being used for booze and tolls.
‘This is not the last straw,’ you tell yourself.
None of this can suggest that the worst is happening.
None of this can explain his sudden disinterest.
I like straws. I chew on them. Whenever I get a drink at a restaurant I keep the straw for like the next three hours and just chew on it. It’s quite entertaining. It gets all flat with holes in it.
I sipped through the straw that allowed me to taste your juices.
You were sweet.
You were sour.
You were bitter.
You were fulfilling.
I thank God for that straw.
As Elijah walked on the beach by himself, he noticed the sand getting stuck on his wet toes. Small things like this really bothered him, and he continued to be annoyed with all of the places sand stuck to bodies. That is, until he saw the woman in the straw hat who was sitting in the sun by herself…
The last, the final, straw. The end is near.
or Twisty straws! crazy straws! it’s always a fun time with STRAW.
I am a straw. People use me all the time. I get put with a bunch of my friends and then one day I am taken away from them and submerged into a cold liquid of my grabbers choice. It’s tough being a straw, sometimes I wish I was a cup.
I never thought to say it, but I’m in love with him, Straw. So like me, to fall for the one I will never have, the one who passes me each and every day without a car in the world. How nice it must be, to be him, Straw.
My heart is a house made of straw. One strong gust of wind and you might blow it over. Pieces scattered around, remains of what one was. Left to rebuild and relearn. Why does life keep trying to teach me lessons that I never want to learn?
something I drink out of. I don’t usually spend money on them, but I feel like I’m being treated when I get them at an establishment or something of the such. They are cylindrical, like many other tings in like. Trees are cylindrical, they provide us with air. How nice of them!
The straw made her scalp itch, where it was stuck in her hair at all angles. She couldn’t bring herself to remove this last remnant of the rollicking, after her joy and her sweat and her tremblings were gone.
It climbed slowly out of the straw heap, one long hairy leg following the other in jerky movements, and made it’s way up the back of her shirt but she was too focused on yelling at me to notice. Her face was purple and blotchy from all her crying and her voice strained and high as she demanded that I tell her why it was my life’s mission to make her miserable but my focus was riveted as the eight hairy legs made their ascent.
again fucking straws? why are there so many straws in the air?, i mean, who has this magical power to make flying straws!? Some weird shit happening here and i don’t understand why straws are the key to understanding the universe. My universe is a straw.
Why do I always get straw? It’s like no other words exist on this website! I always get straw, every single freaking time! Its rather irritating…. maybe I should go on strike or sign a petition or maybe I should start a political party about it. IDK but straws are become a very negative object. Every time I see one I’m going to remember this and cry. Cry myself to sleep. And its all because of you “Oneword.” I hate you.
We had a conversation about straws once. It was silly really. But maybe not. That was one of the first times we talked about children. And you told me you were scared you wouldn’t know how to teach them simple things like drinking from a straw. It was adorable. And utterly endearing.
so i was in the cafeteria where the straws were flying in the air like popcorn out of the microwave, it was interesting but also scary because what the fuck, Flying straws!
That was the final straw. Time after time, she let him get away with this. The late calls, the early escapes, the excuses as to why he wasn’t at dinner. But not anymore, not any longer. As she stared at him through the window, laughing with a nameless woman, she took her last look at him. This would be the last time she ever saw him.
Its a long thing thats a little like a candy cain or a barber shop spiny thingo that you drink stuff out of… and its awesome. That is all.
the last straw. it really was the last straw. what else could we have undone to undo our misjudgement. unfortunate or not –
Straw will bring hope to the horses who have worked for so long. Straw fields bring in work which will soon pay workers who have collected Straw. Straw. A food that provides proposes for others.
Straw in the hey field that fill up bins so people can eat. Fields full of straw that provide food for the horses.
Sometimes you run through the day frantically trying to get things done. Sometimes that never happens. Sometimes shit happens. Sometimes you draw the last straw. Sometimes the first. Whatever straw you draw. Make good use of it.