the tickets vanished rapidly, gladly I was able to get my own in the early hours. looking down on it, i felt holding an opportunity never to be encountered again. plain and paper, it held everything i hoped for, i yearned for. as i enter the theatre and watch my ticket ripped in two, it was bittersweet victory raging through my veins.
Ah, a ticket. Tickets to the circus are my favorite kind. No, no. My FAVORITE kind of ticket is that kind that doesn’t exist. Platform 9 3/4, anyone? I’d die if I ever got that ticket for real. Imagine the destinations you would reach. The journeys that would happen with just that one ticket…?
i got a speeding ticket a year ago. my boyfriend bought my ticket the movie we went to last. i bought a pack of tickets to comedy shows. we havent gone to any yet. i want to find a golden ticket like in willie wonka, but i dont eat candy.
My ticket out of here is you, who I say I do not know, maybe it is my fair self after all who will find my winding way from dungeons to you all, fine friends old and new, clear me of my trespass, of these things past. I know not how this tangle web found it’s way around me, simplify, simplify and find beauty in the small, my harrowing journey leads me to you after all.
it was silver. i was white. i needed it to match me. for some reason, i felt like i knew what i was doing, but in reality i really didn’t. it was the drug. the drug that they had shot me up with. i wish i remembered what it was called. i just knew it made me feel ill and i didn’t wanna feel like that.
She reached through the plastic protection pane to hand me my two tickets, while I silently wondered if they would both be necessary. After waiting twenty minutes without a call I know inside that she won’t show…
i got a ticket to leave once but i never thought i would use it. everyone always wants to go to the moon, but when you actually have the chance, everything else seems so important…but i didn’t wash my clothes what will i wear? who cares! it is the moon, not this crumby old planet! the moon! gone no worries no horrible friends and worse families.
The word ticket reminds me of a train. A train ticket can be a lot. It can be the start of a new life for you. The get away train. Yes, i’ll take one train ticket please.
i got a ticket it totally sucked the cop is totally mean…I bet he hasn’t gotten laid in a while or maybe they are just laying people off fromt he police department..hey times and tough too bad to be broke right now can’t really live life to the fullest if your broke
a ticket a ticket a golden ticket it was all i wanted and all i left this state without i have everything but that golden ticket it i feel like nothing without that ticket without that validation of everything i am everything i could have been could have said could have done but instead i get to hear about his golden ticket the one that made him first made him perfect and made me forgotten in the middle of a crowded train station without a ticket
She looked down at the ticket in her hand and then back up at the man in front of her.
“Is Tamaki-sempai really not coming?” She asked, scanning the crowds around them.
He shrugged, “He said he couldn’t make it.”
Kyouya grabbed her wrist and pulled her through the large set of doors in front of them.
She blinked, “You actually want to go?”
He looked back at her with a slight grin, an expression playing across his face that she had never seen before, “Well, we bought these tickets. Why put them to waste just because Tamaki didn’t choose to show up?”
She nodded slowly and let him pull her into the thick crowd, not noticing the way her hand has slipped into his.
Ticket in hand, I throw myself at the bouncing carnival. Lights shine on my candy-coated face, a black prospect among all these jubilant children. My smile sheds cancer in the dust, their tiny feet tramping through, bringing it with them to pop balloons, ride the ferris wheel, and at last, at last, home to bed.
The movie theater is a wonderful place to check me out so are amusement parks. You need my help to get on to planes, trains, and sometimes automobiles. The Fair. The wonderful fair that houses great memories of the summer.
Ticket. One small ticket can take you anywhere you want to go. Imagine a place and a ticket will give you the exclusive view. I collect tickets and nothing else because those are the things help me see where I came from.
The ticket stub he handed me was a bright yellow. I got on the ride and he slid into the seat next to me. The bar lowered down to our chests, telling us the ride was about to start. The upbeat music started blaring out of the speakers and the whole contraption started spinning. At first it was slow, but gradually, it got faster and the seats lifted up. We were spinning, and contraption we were attached to was spinning, and we were moving up and down. After a few minutes, my stomach started twisting. Another minute in, it was doing flips. By the time the ride was over, ever organ in my body seemed to have traded places about 30 times. My stomach was where my heart was supposed to be, my heart was where my lungs should’ve been, and my lungs where were my stomach should’ve been. I ran to the trash and puked, putting all my organs back to where they belong. I vowed never to go on a carnival ride ever again.
Where is it? Where is the ticket? I had it on me when we left the house, when we got out of the taxi, at the checkout, through security, where is it now? Suitcase? No. Pockets? No…. Left hand? No, right hand? Ah….
The most recent ticket I received really changed me. I’m not a liar — I’m quite honest, but the prospect of paying another $15 to the city turned me into a big fat fibber.
A ticket. It was small, white, and ragged around the edges. She’d been carrying it around in her pocket for monthes, waiting for the final straw. And today had been it. Today, this rough little peice of paper was going to take her away from here, far, far away. Somewhere better. She didn’t know where she would go or what she would do when she got there. But this ticket was going to let her onto a bus, and it was leaving this town behind forever.
I held the ticket as close to my face as possible, trying to decide if she was lying. It looked real enough, howver, and I soon gave up my search.
“I don’t know how you got it,” I said as Leigh danced happily around the lamppost. “But it looks like we will be going to New York afterall.”
entrance to the unknown..seeking admission to be seen, to be heard, to be loud and uninhibited. I have access and free reign above all else in this world. To ride, she’s got it and she don’t care.
The movie theater is a wonderful place to check me out so are amusement parks. You need my help to get on to planes, trains, and sometimes automobiles.
every word sounds trite
every thought far from new
this too
this toooo
thiiiiiis too
it’s just
all been said
i know that’s not true
but at least that which I’m thinking right now has
I guess I should just stop writing, then.
This crinkled old ticket stub, dusty and yellow from years of hiding down at the bottom of my sock draw, was all I had left. Bob Dylan on ice. It had been a joke gift for my wanna be hippy father. That night was encased with all kinds of hilarity, and it was the last time I had truly ever laughed- laughed so hard that my stomach hurt. That was five years ago. I thought they say time heals all wounds? Then why is this one still so damn raw and unrelenting?
Ticket. Makes me think of the fair, of summer, of good times. There is nothing better than riding the scariest rides and getting some cotton cany with that special someone. Of hanging out with friends you haven’t seen in forever.
My grandma has only ever gotten one ticket. My grandpa is a policeman, so he disapproves greatly. I can’t wait til I start driving. I’ll have to be very concious of not getting tickets; my dad will kill me. I hope my dad gives me his yellow ’78 chevy pick-up. Or let’s me fix up an old car with him.
It flew off into the wind, swirling up over rooftops, across gardens, and finally settling on the Waldorf’s front porch. My waldorf saw it first as he walked up to the door on his way home from work, swishing his business suit out the way so he could try and find his keys in his pocket.
The ticket was laying on the ground in front of him, looking lonely and small. He stared at it, his eyes widened in the realization of how big of a coincidence this was. Looking around for the original owner, but not seeing them, he quickly picked up the ticket and boarded the train.
thats the ticket, the golden griddle. Cast it from the kitchen and into the dungeon. Dream, that you’ll ride through the factory without error. Hope that you’ll achieve your dream. Wish that hope were enough.
“He’s your ticket out of here, Maria.” I could see the agony in my mother’s pale blue eyes. The wrinkles shook, holding back tears. Wrinkles and lines from years of worrying. Worrying about food, worrying about replacing our shoes, and every other little care that had ever bent her back. “It’s almost winter, Maria. Your sister is going to die with the cold. He is no charmer, but his wife will live.”
Not by owls, as I might have hoped, but in a small white envelope. And upon opening it, I discovered that it was, strangely enough, for a train at King’s Cross. So I packed my bags, and boarded the train.
golden ticket. charlie and the chocolate factory. chocolate bar. melting. hot outside. like 100 degrees. oven. bread. butter. is butter a carb? regina george. hit by a bus. school bus. children. candy bar. golden ticket.
It’s crawling underneath my skin and into my throat, choking the sound and killing my voice.
A weary day is made tenfold worse by a call from home.
I’ve got a plane ride back in less than a month and I’m not ready for it.
Nor am I ready to pack up the rest of my room and the house. It’s garbage. So I’ll just throw it out or let my folks sell it. Out, out brief candle! Packing the books was easy. Cleaning out the drawers and the night stand was easy. The rest I am dreading.
“Stranger in a strange land, where do you call home tonight?”
some ice
yeah, that’s the ticket
some ice to hold in his mouth
and his hat
where’d his hat go?
his crazy grandkids borrowed it
and maybe some nice cold soda
She’s got a ticket to ride! She’s got a ticket to ride ride, she’s got a ticket to ride, and she don’t care. Version by the carpenters though. Did you Know that is the number one most recored song ever? Amazing!
the tickets vanished rapidly, gladly I was able to get my own in the early hours. looking down on it, i felt holding an opportunity never to be encountered again. plain and paper, it held everything i hoped for, i yearned for. as i enter the theatre and watch my ticket ripped in two, it was bittersweet victory raging through my veins.
Ticket of friendship? Parking ticket? Speeding ticket? Movie ticket? Concert ticket? Play ticket? It seems like tickets take over our lives.
Ah, a ticket. Tickets to the circus are my favorite kind. No, no. My FAVORITE kind of ticket is that kind that doesn’t exist. Platform 9 3/4, anyone? I’d die if I ever got that ticket for real. Imagine the destinations you would reach. The journeys that would happen with just that one ticket…?
i got a speeding ticket a year ago. my boyfriend bought my ticket the movie we went to last. i bought a pack of tickets to comedy shows. we havent gone to any yet. i want to find a golden ticket like in willie wonka, but i dont eat candy.
My ticket out of here is you, who I say I do not know, maybe it is my fair self after all who will find my winding way from dungeons to you all, fine friends old and new, clear me of my trespass, of these things past. I know not how this tangle web found it’s way around me, simplify, simplify and find beauty in the small, my harrowing journey leads me to you after all.
it was silver. i was white. i needed it to match me. for some reason, i felt like i knew what i was doing, but in reality i really didn’t. it was the drug. the drug that they had shot me up with. i wish i remembered what it was called. i just knew it made me feel ill and i didn’t wanna feel like that.
She reached through the plastic protection pane to hand me my two tickets, while I silently wondered if they would both be necessary. After waiting twenty minutes without a call I know inside that she won’t show…
i got a ticket to leave once but i never thought i would use it. everyone always wants to go to the moon, but when you actually have the chance, everything else seems so important…but i didn’t wash my clothes what will i wear? who cares! it is the moon, not this crumby old planet! the moon! gone no worries no horrible friends and worse families.
The word ticket reminds me of a train. A train ticket can be a lot. It can be the start of a new life for you. The get away train. Yes, i’ll take one train ticket please.
i got a ticket it totally sucked the cop is totally mean…I bet he hasn’t gotten laid in a while or maybe they are just laying people off fromt he police department..hey times and tough too bad to be broke right now can’t really live life to the fullest if your broke
a ticket a ticket a golden ticket it was all i wanted and all i left this state without i have everything but that golden ticket it i feel like nothing without that ticket without that validation of everything i am everything i could have been could have said could have done but instead i get to hear about his golden ticket the one that made him first made him perfect and made me forgotten in the middle of a crowded train station without a ticket
She looked down at the ticket in her hand and then back up at the man in front of her.
“Is Tamaki-sempai really not coming?” She asked, scanning the crowds around them.
He shrugged, “He said he couldn’t make it.”
Kyouya grabbed her wrist and pulled her through the large set of doors in front of them.
She blinked, “You actually want to go?”
He looked back at her with a slight grin, an expression playing across his face that she had never seen before, “Well, we bought these tickets. Why put them to waste just because Tamaki didn’t choose to show up?”
She nodded slowly and let him pull her into the thick crowd, not noticing the way her hand has slipped into his.
Ticket in hand, I throw myself at the bouncing carnival. Lights shine on my candy-coated face, a black prospect among all these jubilant children. My smile sheds cancer in the dust, their tiny feet tramping through, bringing it with them to pop balloons, ride the ferris wheel, and at last, at last, home to bed.
I waited all summer for this trip. I am going to Italy. The ticket in my hands, will take me to a dream. Ah!!! The excitement.
The movie theater is a wonderful place to check me out so are amusement parks. You need my help to get on to planes, trains, and sometimes automobiles. The Fair. The wonderful fair that houses great memories of the summer.
Ticket. One small ticket can take you anywhere you want to go. Imagine a place and a ticket will give you the exclusive view. I collect tickets and nothing else because those are the things help me see where I came from.
The ticket stub he handed me was a bright yellow. I got on the ride and he slid into the seat next to me. The bar lowered down to our chests, telling us the ride was about to start. The upbeat music started blaring out of the speakers and the whole contraption started spinning. At first it was slow, but gradually, it got faster and the seats lifted up. We were spinning, and contraption we were attached to was spinning, and we were moving up and down. After a few minutes, my stomach started twisting. Another minute in, it was doing flips. By the time the ride was over, ever organ in my body seemed to have traded places about 30 times. My stomach was where my heart was supposed to be, my heart was where my lungs should’ve been, and my lungs where were my stomach should’ve been. I ran to the trash and puked, putting all my organs back to where they belong. I vowed never to go on a carnival ride ever again.
Where is it? Where is the ticket? I had it on me when we left the house, when we got out of the taxi, at the checkout, through security, where is it now? Suitcase? No. Pockets? No…. Left hand? No, right hand? Ah….
The most recent ticket I received really changed me. I’m not a liar — I’m quite honest, but the prospect of paying another $15 to the city turned me into a big fat fibber.
I grasped the ticket with sweaty palms while i waited for him. He never showed.
A ticket. It was small, white, and ragged around the edges. She’d been carrying it around in her pocket for monthes, waiting for the final straw. And today had been it. Today, this rough little peice of paper was going to take her away from here, far, far away. Somewhere better. She didn’t know where she would go or what she would do when she got there. But this ticket was going to let her onto a bus, and it was leaving this town behind forever.
I held the ticket as close to my face as possible, trying to decide if she was lying. It looked real enough, howver, and I soon gave up my search.
“I don’t know how you got it,” I said as Leigh danced happily around the lamppost. “But it looks like we will be going to New York afterall.”
entrance to the unknown..seeking admission to be seen, to be heard, to be loud and uninhibited. I have access and free reign above all else in this world. To ride, she’s got it and she don’t care.
The movie theater is a wonderful place to check me out so are amusement parks. You need my help to get on to planes, trains, and sometimes automobiles.
every word sounds trite
every thought far from new
this too
this toooo
thiiiiiis too
it’s just
all been said
i know that’s not true
but at least that which I’m thinking right now has
I guess I should just stop writing, then.
This crinkled old ticket stub, dusty and yellow from years of hiding down at the bottom of my sock draw, was all I had left. Bob Dylan on ice. It had been a joke gift for my wanna be hippy father. That night was encased with all kinds of hilarity, and it was the last time I had truly ever laughed- laughed so hard that my stomach hurt. That was five years ago. I thought they say time heals all wounds? Then why is this one still so damn raw and unrelenting?
Ticket. Makes me think of the fair, of summer, of good times. There is nothing better than riding the scariest rides and getting some cotton cany with that special someone. Of hanging out with friends you haven’t seen in forever.
My grandma has only ever gotten one ticket. My grandpa is a policeman, so he disapproves greatly. I can’t wait til I start driving. I’ll have to be very concious of not getting tickets; my dad will kill me. I hope my dad gives me his yellow ’78 chevy pick-up. Or let’s me fix up an old car with him.
That was the ticket.
It flew off into the wind, swirling up over rooftops, across gardens, and finally settling on the Waldorf’s front porch. My waldorf saw it first as he walked up to the door on his way home from work, swishing his business suit out the way so he could try and find his keys in his pocket.
The ticket was laying on the ground in front of him, looking lonely and small. He stared at it, his eyes widened in the realization of how big of a coincidence this was. Looking around for the original owner, but not seeing them, he quickly picked up the ticket and boarded the train.
thats the ticket, the golden griddle. Cast it from the kitchen and into the dungeon. Dream, that you’ll ride through the factory without error. Hope that you’ll achieve your dream. Wish that hope were enough.
it takes a ticket in order to get into various things. concerts, movies, plays, and even in trouble. click it or ticket!
“He’s your ticket out of here, Maria.” I could see the agony in my mother’s pale blue eyes. The wrinkles shook, holding back tears. Wrinkles and lines from years of worrying. Worrying about food, worrying about replacing our shoes, and every other little care that had ever bent her back. “It’s almost winter, Maria. Your sister is going to die with the cold. He is no charmer, but his wife will live.”
The ticket came in the mail.
Not by owls, as I might have hoped, but in a small white envelope. And upon opening it, I discovered that it was, strangely enough, for a train at King’s Cross. So I packed my bags, and boarded the train.
golden ticket. charlie and the chocolate factory. chocolate bar. melting. hot outside. like 100 degrees. oven. bread. butter. is butter a carb? regina george. hit by a bus. school bus. children. candy bar. golden ticket.
i hate getting them from an officer
but LOVE from a box office.
movies.
venues.
oh, how i love/hate tickets.
i’ve always wanted a GOLD one (in hopes of meeting willy wonka OR johnny depp).
rhymes with cricket.
Home is calling.
It’s crawling underneath my skin and into my throat, choking the sound and killing my voice.
A weary day is made tenfold worse by a call from home.
I’ve got a plane ride back in less than a month and I’m not ready for it.
Nor am I ready to pack up the rest of my room and the house. It’s garbage. So I’ll just throw it out or let my folks sell it. Out, out brief candle! Packing the books was easy. Cleaning out the drawers and the night stand was easy. The rest I am dreading.
“Stranger in a strange land, where do you call home tonight?”
I don’t know. I don’t know.
some ice
yeah, that’s the ticket
some ice to hold in his mouth
and his hat
where’d his hat go?
his crazy grandkids borrowed it
and maybe some nice cold soda
She’s got a ticket to ride! She’s got a ticket to ride ride, she’s got a ticket to ride, and she don’t care. Version by the carpenters though. Did you Know that is the number one most recored song ever? Amazing!
If I had a ticket to heaven, who’s going to validate it?