This word gives me bad memories about the many episodes of crime shows I have seen, and how so many people have been suffocated due to lack of oxygen in the trunks of cars and other various vehicles. Not pleasant memories :/
and on oprah she always talked about what if you get stuck in the trunk. so mom would talk to me about it. too bad she stopped watching oprah when i got a little older or maybe i would have been able to talk to her about things. like when to start wearing deoderant or what to do when a boy asks you to the dance or what.c
there is a body in the truck.. whatcha gonna do? get it out? naw… u dont have the keys.. ohhhhh sucks for that person… oh wait… emergency tab? and he havent pulled it? just walk away… they r stupid… lol. TRUNK!!! IS IT OVER?
i was in the trunk it was dark and i wasn’t sure how to escape i could hear their voices dull at first but then louder, still though slightly muffled. i needed to get out of the trunk
in the trunk of the car there is a body, mangled and bruised. barely alive and unable to catch their breath. being tossed about they are realizing that these are the last few seconds in their life, and there is nothing they can do about it.
Elephants have memories. They can’t jump. They also have knees. Elephants, even though they are not a commonly eaten animal, are the main reason I refuse to eat animals. Animals believe, think, feel, and remember. I can’t eat a soul.
trunk is something that is always in the back. not in the front. but it still has its own importance. without a trunk, we can’t hide our stuff that we need but don’t want anyone else to know. Without a trunk, we won’t have support. we wont have something to lean back on. When i think of trunk, i think of a supporter, a shoulder to lean on. A relient thing in life that’s always constant in your life. Just because its in the back and not in the front, its still in the same importance and just as needed.
the trunk was filled with blood and the limbs of all those peoplehe had so deeply abhorred. Nothing could stop him now from his goal he reached the end of the beach and pulled up to the water. He emptied out the box trunk of all the arms and torn ligaments from his victims. none of them stood a chasnce before hus burly arms
Secrets. Lies. What all do we keep in the “trunk” of our mind, just like the trunk of our car? The things we want no one to see. The thoughts we want no one to hear. The ideas we will never share. Those things which we are scared no one will accept. Everything we are afraid of.
Old memories rests in there.
Tree’s last will,
can be reduced to ashes,
in a bad blow of rage,
or a warm shy kiss.
Your eyes are not seeing its real shape.
The car trunk was stuffed full of dead bodies. They had been dead for at least a week and they smelled of rotting flesh and decaying souls. The pungent smell wafted through the open window of the adjacent warehouse to the nose of Mr. Wilson.
I clicked open the trunk of the car. Click. Didn’t open though. Clicked it again. Damn thing was stuck. I could hear the slight movement inside, and I knew I had to get the damn thing to open up. Click, click. And not a goddamn thing.
I threw some shit in my trunk once….like a bean bag a chair and three peicess of toast. I’m not really sure if I want to put some butter on that toast or leave that shit plain. Whatever i love toast.
there she laid in the trunk. barely breathing, but completely aware of what was to come. her body tossed up and down over the bumps of the road as the car sped through old, unfamiliar roads. she began to think of her brother.
As I packed my trunk for tomorrow evening, she kept returning to my thoughts. The cupid-bow glimmer of her smile, the bell-like ringing of her laughter. Maybe one day….
mister elephant decided that, indeed, today is the day! he would pack his trunk and make his way. forget all those who say nay.. he would prove them everything would be okay. would his trunk carry all that he needs to make it to the quay?
She slammed it shut. Why in the world did she even open in the first place. She was warned, and yet curiosity got better of her. Ryan looked at her expectantly and she shook her head.
the sadness and the hurt fit neatly in the trunk of the car, we kept it there and did not speak of it anymore, and we drove around with the secrets we swore to never tell stashed safely in the dark of the trunk
The base of everything, where it all begins. The trunk is the source of life. It serves as a memory and as a measure of time. The grandure of it is inescapable. Nothing can shake it, rattle it, or move it. Forver there in the earth, nothing is without it. It is forever.
i love trees, i love treehouses. i want one to just smoke in and sleep in and camp in and play guitar and hide out. their trunks would have writing all over them with carvings and initials. i love nature and sitting in trees overlooking the world.
i had a trunk in my old bedroom. my mother asked me to leave her house and I thought that I would try to take the trunk, but it has filled to the brim and sadly, i believe my mother will keep it.
Every tree has a trunk, but some are small and thin while others are large and old. Trunks of trees are then used to make trunks for storage, like chests. Elephants have trunks, but not of wood. Men wear trunks when they go swimming. A car has a trunk where things are put. I never realized the word had so many different meanings.
So once again, I would think of trunks not as the ones that elephants swing freely around them in the dusty green forests, but just the battered brown boxes, like the ones you see in museums all covered in doilies, that are old leather and covered in big paper stamps from france, indonesia, italy, the pacific islands. The heady wind of travel.
Trunk could be the trunk of a tree
or the hindside of a car that carries the loads of bags on trips
Or a very long nose that holds the water for elephant baths.
Either way, trunks are important. They help life in their own way, though not always directly.
Hide the body! Junk in the trunk. Elephant. Seriously though – what I throw all of my memories in, where I hide them away for the days I’m feeling nostalgic, the day my daughter wants to know what I was like before she came along.
In Grandmother’s attic sits a huge old trunk. It’s covered in cobwebs an dust and weak sunlight that strains through the window that looks out over the backyard fence, with the flowery, moth-eaten curtains. Grandmother told me and Augustus that the trunk held nothing more interesting than old documents, files. Instead, we found something much more curious when we stole the heavy rusted key from the vase on top of the fridge and opened the trunk late on a November night. The attic was chilly, the window rattled from the wind, but the anticipation of opening the trunk kept us warm inside, giving us that peculiar feeling, the feeling that only the prospect of adventure and the added uncertainty of being caught can give you, especially when you’re young like us. Like we were then.
I buried a man in the trunk of my car. He was an ugly hobo who smelled like booze and hookers. Isn’t that gross? I know! Ick. Now the trunk of my car needs a scrubbing, so I’m going to hire the next man to do it.
A dead body is in the trunk. Yeah, it’s your dead body, full of my love, full of lies, you died because you didn’t love me, you died because you were bad, a bad guy. You see? That’s the price you pay.
a place to keep treasures. or a dead body. stifling in the summer heat. Kick out the headlight! Fight to survive.. This tiny metal box need not be your end. Fight. Until your last breath. The choice to struggle is evidence of how precious even the worst day of this precious life is.
i put the body in the trunk
she’s gone
one less phone call, one less text one, less birthday card
she’s at the bottom of the river
goodnight old friend.
I threw him in the trunk of my car, couldn’t contain the giddy satisfaction the sound of his body, limp, made slamming into the back of my seat. The blanket didn’t cover the blood, my calm couldn’t cover the brewing excitement inside of me, the man was finally gone, no longer haunting my moves or thoughts or dreams. Gone.
Hah so many people I would love to stuff in a trunk. But i won’t and I can’t. I can hide the emotions, I am very very good at that. I can suppress the urge to rip their eye balls out >:D. I sound psychotic lololololol… maybe GSA is getting to me. After all, “We’re All mad here”- The Hatter.
It was all packed. My first adventure. Independence. Everything I owned was in that Honda. The amount of excitement I felt, incalculable. I haven’t felt like that before or since. Just the road and me. My life in the trunk.
The trunk of the car was dark and musty. He could smell old groceries and pizzas through the clothe they had tied over his nose and mouth. He bumped around as the car sped on, and even rolled when it went up a steep hill. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew it couldn’t be anywhere good.
There’s nothing to hide in my trunk. No liars or thieves, transvestites or brigands. Only the pure, innocence of nothingness. In my trunk, there’s nothing.
i was in the trunk of my car wondering to myself where my life had gone. I think that something serious has happened. I can feel my breath tightening. It’s been hours. I wonder when I’ll be able to see my son again. The mystery of it all makes me want to stop living. I wonder. When I’ll be able to see again.
This word gives me bad memories about the many episodes of crime shows I have seen, and how so many people have been suffocated due to lack of oxygen in the trunks of cars and other various vehicles. Not pleasant memories :/
and on oprah she always talked about what if you get stuck in the trunk. so mom would talk to me about it. too bad she stopped watching oprah when i got a little older or maybe i would have been able to talk to her about things. like when to start wearing deoderant or what to do when a boy asks you to the dance or what.c
there is a body in the truck.. whatcha gonna do? get it out? naw… u dont have the keys.. ohhhhh sucks for that person… oh wait… emergency tab? and he havent pulled it? just walk away… they r stupid… lol. TRUNK!!! IS IT OVER?
i was in the trunk it was dark and i wasn’t sure how to escape i could hear their voices dull at first but then louder, still though slightly muffled. i needed to get out of the trunk
in the trunk of the car there is a body, mangled and bruised. barely alive and unable to catch their breath. being tossed about they are realizing that these are the last few seconds in their life, and there is nothing they can do about it.
Elephants have memories. They can’t jump. They also have knees. Elephants, even though they are not a commonly eaten animal, are the main reason I refuse to eat animals. Animals believe, think, feel, and remember. I can’t eat a soul.
trunk is something that is always in the back. not in the front. but it still has its own importance. without a trunk, we can’t hide our stuff that we need but don’t want anyone else to know. Without a trunk, we won’t have support. we wont have something to lean back on. When i think of trunk, i think of a supporter, a shoulder to lean on. A relient thing in life that’s always constant in your life. Just because its in the back and not in the front, its still in the same importance and just as needed.
the trunk was filled with blood and the limbs of all those peoplehe had so deeply abhorred. Nothing could stop him now from his goal he reached the end of the beach and pulled up to the water. He emptied out the box trunk of all the arms and torn ligaments from his victims. none of them stood a chasnce before hus burly arms
Secrets. Lies. What all do we keep in the “trunk” of our mind, just like the trunk of our car? The things we want no one to see. The thoughts we want no one to hear. The ideas we will never share. Those things which we are scared no one will accept. Everything we are afraid of.
The elephant body utility used for eating, cleaning, and picking stuff up. The trunk is a truly silly looking thing, but has many uses.
Old memories rests in there.
Tree’s last will,
can be reduced to ashes,
in a bad blow of rage,
or a warm shy kiss.
Your eyes are not seeing its real shape.
The car trunk was stuffed full of dead bodies. They had been dead for at least a week and they smelled of rotting flesh and decaying souls. The pungent smell wafted through the open window of the adjacent warehouse to the nose of Mr. Wilson.
I clicked open the trunk of the car. Click. Didn’t open though. Clicked it again. Damn thing was stuck. I could hear the slight movement inside, and I knew I had to get the damn thing to open up. Click, click. And not a goddamn thing.
I threw some shit in my trunk once….like a bean bag a chair and three peicess of toast. I’m not really sure if I want to put some butter on that toast or leave that shit plain. Whatever i love toast.
there she laid in the trunk. barely breathing, but completely aware of what was to come. her body tossed up and down over the bumps of the road as the car sped through old, unfamiliar roads. she began to think of her brother.
As I packed my trunk for tomorrow evening, she kept returning to my thoughts. The cupid-bow glimmer of her smile, the bell-like ringing of her laughter. Maybe one day….
mister elephant decided that, indeed, today is the day! he would pack his trunk and make his way. forget all those who say nay.. he would prove them everything would be okay. would his trunk carry all that he needs to make it to the quay?
She slammed it shut. Why in the world did she even open in the first place. She was warned, and yet curiosity got better of her. Ryan looked at her expectantly and she shook her head.
the sadness and the hurt fit neatly in the trunk of the car, we kept it there and did not speak of it anymore, and we drove around with the secrets we swore to never tell stashed safely in the dark of the trunk
The base of everything, where it all begins. The trunk is the source of life. It serves as a memory and as a measure of time. The grandure of it is inescapable. Nothing can shake it, rattle it, or move it. Forver there in the earth, nothing is without it. It is forever.
i love trees, i love treehouses. i want one to just smoke in and sleep in and camp in and play guitar and hide out. their trunks would have writing all over them with carvings and initials. i love nature and sitting in trees overlooking the world.
he is like a tree in every sense, a strong tree.
one that is not swayed so easily by the wind.
and immovable force of age.
It was dark and so stuffy. I gasped and gagged on the stale air.
Where was I?
i had a trunk in my old bedroom. my mother asked me to leave her house and I thought that I would try to take the trunk, but it has filled to the brim and sadly, i believe my mother will keep it.
she will keep it.
Every tree has a trunk, but some are small and thin while others are large and old. Trunks of trees are then used to make trunks for storage, like chests. Elephants have trunks, but not of wood. Men wear trunks when they go swimming. A car has a trunk where things are put. I never realized the word had so many different meanings.
So once again, I would think of trunks not as the ones that elephants swing freely around them in the dusty green forests, but just the battered brown boxes, like the ones you see in museums all covered in doilies, that are old leather and covered in big paper stamps from france, indonesia, italy, the pacific islands. The heady wind of travel.
Trunk could be the trunk of a tree
or the hindside of a car that carries the loads of bags on trips
Or a very long nose that holds the water for elephant baths.
Either way, trunks are important. They help life in their own way, though not always directly.
Hide the body! Junk in the trunk. Elephant. Seriously though – what I throw all of my memories in, where I hide them away for the days I’m feeling nostalgic, the day my daughter wants to know what I was like before she came along.
In Grandmother’s attic sits a huge old trunk. It’s covered in cobwebs an dust and weak sunlight that strains through the window that looks out over the backyard fence, with the flowery, moth-eaten curtains. Grandmother told me and Augustus that the trunk held nothing more interesting than old documents, files. Instead, we found something much more curious when we stole the heavy rusted key from the vase on top of the fridge and opened the trunk late on a November night. The attic was chilly, the window rattled from the wind, but the anticipation of opening the trunk kept us warm inside, giving us that peculiar feeling, the feeling that only the prospect of adventure and the added uncertainty of being caught can give you, especially when you’re young like us. Like we were then.
I buried a man in the trunk of my car. He was an ugly hobo who smelled like booze and hookers. Isn’t that gross? I know! Ick. Now the trunk of my car needs a scrubbing, so I’m going to hire the next man to do it.
A dead body is in the trunk. Yeah, it’s your dead body, full of my love, full of lies, you died because you didn’t love me, you died because you were bad, a bad guy. You see? That’s the price you pay.
a place to keep treasures. or a dead body. stifling in the summer heat. Kick out the headlight! Fight to survive.. This tiny metal box need not be your end. Fight. Until your last breath. The choice to struggle is evidence of how precious even the worst day of this precious life is.
i put the body in the trunk
she’s gone
one less phone call, one less text one, less birthday card
she’s at the bottom of the river
goodnight old friend.
I threw him in the trunk of my car, couldn’t contain the giddy satisfaction the sound of his body, limp, made slamming into the back of my seat. The blanket didn’t cover the blood, my calm couldn’t cover the brewing excitement inside of me, the man was finally gone, no longer haunting my moves or thoughts or dreams. Gone.
Hah so many people I would love to stuff in a trunk. But i won’t and I can’t. I can hide the emotions, I am very very good at that. I can suppress the urge to rip their eye balls out >:D. I sound psychotic lololololol… maybe GSA is getting to me. After all, “We’re All mad here”- The Hatter.
It was all packed. My first adventure. Independence. Everything I owned was in that Honda. The amount of excitement I felt, incalculable. I haven’t felt like that before or since. Just the road and me. My life in the trunk.
The trunk of the car was dark and musty. He could smell old groceries and pizzas through the clothe they had tied over his nose and mouth. He bumped around as the car sped on, and even rolled when it went up a steep hill. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew it couldn’t be anywhere good.
the trunk was junk
shoved in the back was the old radio
grey, dirty, peeling, and broken
antenna bent in two places,
like a finished ant
we backed out the driveway
as light swept across the grass
a million fireflies flickering on and off
upon manicured green nails
There’s nothing to hide in my trunk. No liars or thieves, transvestites or brigands. Only the pure, innocence of nothingness. In my trunk, there’s nothing.
i was in the trunk of my car wondering to myself where my life had gone. I think that something serious has happened. I can feel my breath tightening. It’s been hours. I wonder when I’ll be able to see my son again. The mystery of it all makes me want to stop living. I wonder. When I’ll be able to see again.