This is what I imagine dreams look like, night clouds of mist on a mountain, the road nothing more than a double yellow line collar. And I’m weaving steady until you appear like a mirage beside me, only to disappear into the fog. Taillights taunting me. I fly to catch you, my vision blurred by these opaque hopes, my heart’s lantern refracting back at me. You disappear into the dark, a ghost of sleek lines and growling throttle. I am back to the silence of only my dreams cradling me, and I give up the chase.
She tugged on the studded collar and hefted a sigh. “You owe me for this, you know.” There was a bit of a glint in the glare she directed towards me. “I mean it, you imp.”
I swallowed and nodded. “You know I wouldn’t ask unless there was no other…candidate.”
She snorted. “Candidate my foot. You mean I’m just the only one stupid enough to get roped into your ridiculous schemes.”
“They’re not ridiculous!” I protested.
“Yeah, yeah, heard it all.” She yawned and then winked.
I stepped back, watching as my best friend morphed into a beautiful, snowy white tiger, with a thick, padded collar around her neck. I felt my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth as speaking became the very last thing on my mind.
Her morph continued until her tiger was nearly eight times my six-foot-three frame. Then she dipped her head downwards, allowing me to grab hold of the collar and hoist myself up. “Thanks, Spin.” I whispered, burying my face in the familiar, warm fur. “Thanks.”
The white collar job is the way to the Ameriican Dream. It is also a direct route to white collar crime. How corrupt! There are classes on this subject at universities.
Katie
Collars are restraining. I feel badly about putting one on my dog. He has to go where I go. He is controlled by me.
ashleyn
Choking. A shock collar. Kind of like how I feel a lot. Like I try and run through a barrier, try and get out of my little fenced-in yard, but right when I come to the point of freedom, the collar goes and shocks me to put me in my place. I just want to GET OUT of this crap. But the collar is attached to a leash, and its holder won’t let go easily.
J
The girl pulled his chain towards her, yanking his collar once again. “You’ve been a bad, bad boy, haven’t you?” she barked. This was the game they always teased about playing. But this time, she meant it.
N. E. Wan
He’s working a white-collar job, but sometimes he forgets, like when he steps back into the playroom of his grandparent’s house. The world spins a little. It grows hot. He pulls at his blue collar, and remembers the times when Grampa Allen would burst through the door, snatching him up after a long day’s work at the fields.
i have them on my dress shirts I think they are not as simple as they seem to be.. for example, on the show ‘boardwalk empire’, Nucky has shirts with collars i’ve never seen before.
n
He walked in the door, planted a kiss on her cheek
and promised that he loved her.
She closed her eyes and pretended not to see
the lipstick on his collar.
His collar was folded half-up, half-down, and there was a wine stain on the side of the shirt. His hair, windblown and tousled, added to the disarray. On any other day, it wouldn’t matter, and I’d laugh about the curious, Abraham Lincoln shaped blob on his dress shirt.
But this isn’t any other day; it’s the day my gallery opens. It’s the day where I release all the thoughts I’ve had for the past three hundred and sixty-five.
Ally
The large, burly man grabbed the boy and before he knew it he was dangling thirty stories above street-level by his collar.
“Go ahead,” he said, looking the man in the eye, “do it. I dare you.”
The man averted his gaze and paused for a moment, as if to think. Then he let go. And the boy fell.
The feild was the color of the sky right before a storm comes; that ugly shade of chartruese that electrifies the air with anticipation. Both sides held soldiers, warriors, fighters. But these fighters were also people. They had hearts buried deep down under the oppression they had suffered and the burning hatred they now nursed in their chests. They were souls. I blinked and the first gun fired. It happened just as the sky began to tinge a melted shade of orange with the sunrise. And then the bodies charged forward like ants, swarming over their hill, scrambling and screaming. A number of them died within the first minute. And within the next sixty seconds after that, triple that number had lost their lives. Bodies littered the ground, and the dying grass folded dying sodiers into its trampled scruff. The men wore suits of anger; their collars were blood. The sky was painted over with smoke until the rain came, spinning down in ropes, showering all of the people there; tiny bullets colliding with their skin. It hit me the hardest.
the top of a shirt
crisp
mr cobb
teachers
english teachers
wrinkly
shows what conditions you keep yourself in
fancy or not
blue or white – symbolizing of class
Ella
GOes on a shirt, make it classy, but if ya pop it, it just looks douchey. and thats no good, so never pop your collar my friends.
A collar is a part of a person’s clothing. There’s not that much to talk about when it comes to buttons because they are pretty darn simple. They tend to be the most visibly dirty part of a prrson’s shirt because of makeup and sweat.
Victory Obiefuna
I’d hold him down, by the same collar he used to use on me.
The one with the black leather and the spikes. He used to turn it inside out, to press the cold, pointed metal against my skin and choke me.
But not anymore.
If I had my chance, to get my hands on him, I’d pay him back for all the misery.
But I guess that’s what you meant by “living in the past,” isn’t it? All this violence… Maybe it’s not worth perpetuating.
it was placed perfectly on the dogs neck. a shiny new tag claiming that she now had a home. a place where people loved her. home. love/ ownership. just because you have a collar with a certain name doesn’t mean you cant change your stars.
Courtney
Longing to do something significant
Lost in the ocean of the neatly dressed,
freshly pressed, white collared inhabitants.
She fastens the buttons of her dress all the way up to the collar. Looking in the mirror, she wonders if this shade of blue suits her as well as they said it did. Her small breasts look even more unimpressive than usual cloth, which really only looks like a man’s shirt taken in under the breasts. Angry, she rips the collar and the buttons go flying.
She grabs her bag and leaves with torn front and bared collarbone.
She took him by the collar, drawing him down to the rush carpet. She kissed him once but only for a while for it was in her nature to tease. She smiled as she undid his buttons. She could feel the excitement building within him. She whispered seductively in his ear, “Baby, hit the lights”.
Sherlock glanced out of the corner of his eye to ensure John was following along, paying attention. “With your cheekbones and your collar,” he’d ranted. with the most imperceptible of smirks, Sherlock forged ahead into the misty and popped his collar with a flourish. Surely enough, John rolled his eyes, but by now he had to realize that it really was all a show just for him. Sherlock silently vowed to find more things that John paid attention to.
His collar was crisp and white. The fold line was distinct and sharp. His stripped tie peeked out at just the right moment in front of his neck where the two top buttons came together. His tie continued it’s dissent down the front of his shirt splashing it with bright bold color. His collar was crisp and white.
His color was crisp and white. The fold line was distinct and sharp. The striped tie peeked out at just the right moment in front of his neck where the two top buttons came together. His color was crisp and white.
a collar is like a tree. it can look pretty but it is restrained. you can look at it but you dont want one. they cause pain. like a tree you always have to pick up the leaves. a collar makes you pick up the strength
Alyssa
the collar of his shirt was stained with red lipstick. his wife hated t owear red lipstick— she hadn’t worn it in over 20 years…. its amazing how one little stain can ruin a 20 year relationship
KaiyaP5
i was in the kitchen pouring some milk into my cereal when i heard some scratching at the front door. it was a Saturday, around 9 o’clock and i was alone in the house. i walked to the door and found a little dog with a bright red collar. “hi there” i said to it as i bent down. it was wagging its tail like it was Christmas and he was licking me all over my face. “hey hey!” i said laughing. i looked a the collar but there wasn’t a name tag, only a tiny scroll.
Alibay
The pink and white collar of life we grow to learn of as a child is what keeps us young at heart when we finally become true responsible adults. It’s what controls our knowledge and conscious of right from wrong. Love and hate. Truth and lies. You and I.
collars can mean many things. A collar with a red lipstick stain could signify cheating, or a night out. A prim and proper collar could be a sign of high status and formality.
Tokki Choi
He turned up the collar of his overcoat. It kept the rain off his neck, but the cold night air blew effortlessly around and under.
baby there’s a shark in the water. there’s something underneath your bed. believe me that i said, baby there’s a shark in the water. i hear them barking at the moon, it should be soon…
sharks=collars.
rachel
collars are restraints in a world where there seem to be none (and yet far too many at the same time). there is no way to overlook the fact that collars keep you safe, but they also keep you from exploring. And exploration can be the most important thing a person does.
hh
He holds my collar,
He keeps it tight.
I take it off,
run into the night.
His hands will slip,
His eyes will fall.
The collar will drop,
the end of it all.
It’s bone lays beneath the face, lovers trace this with their tongues, their lips kiss this softly, firmly, tenderly. Sweet nothings whispered.
Ginaya
I resting word . Iclar can describe your shirt. Some golf clubs and restaurants won’t allow entrance without a collar. The word collar can also describe your job type. Blue collar, poor working class. White collar, rich upper class making great pay.
a collar around my neck, restraining me. this is interesting. i thought i could be free, i thought i could be wild, i thought i could run. instead i have a collar wrapped around a neck. lead me with a leash, and i must follow. there is no choice. you are the collar, i’m the dog. but one day, i will break free from your restraints. and then i shall truly be free.
lillian
The lipstick on his collar was the clincher. He hadn’t even shut the front door before she’d caught a whiff of the heady perfume. He may as well have taken a bath in it. That might have been explained away though. The bright red smudge on the edge of that crisply pressed collar said it all though. Did he want to get caught? In that moment she felt angrier about the violation of that damned shirt that she’d washed and ironed and hung with care then the violation of her marriage.
my life is a bit askew and all I know to be true is the cup of tea staring back at me from this scratched wooden table. I wonder who the muffin man really is…mother can’t you see what is what and who is who and why I’m me and you are you. AMEN
Lola
the color of my collar has no meaning
i am human
color my collar human
hire me human
pay me human
This is what I imagine dreams look like, night clouds of mist on a mountain, the road nothing more than a double yellow line collar. And I’m weaving steady until you appear like a mirage beside me, only to disappear into the fog. Taillights taunting me. I fly to catch you, my vision blurred by these opaque hopes, my heart’s lantern refracting back at me. You disappear into the dark, a ghost of sleek lines and growling throttle. I am back to the silence of only my dreams cradling me, and I give up the chase.
She tugged on the studded collar and hefted a sigh. “You owe me for this, you know.” There was a bit of a glint in the glare she directed towards me. “I mean it, you imp.”
I swallowed and nodded. “You know I wouldn’t ask unless there was no other…candidate.”
She snorted. “Candidate my foot. You mean I’m just the only one stupid enough to get roped into your ridiculous schemes.”
“They’re not ridiculous!” I protested.
“Yeah, yeah, heard it all.” She yawned and then winked.
I stepped back, watching as my best friend morphed into a beautiful, snowy white tiger, with a thick, padded collar around her neck. I felt my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth as speaking became the very last thing on my mind.
Her morph continued until her tiger was nearly eight times my six-foot-three frame. Then she dipped her head downwards, allowing me to grab hold of the collar and hoist myself up. “Thanks, Spin.” I whispered, burying my face in the familiar, warm fur. “Thanks.”
She snorted.
The white collar job is the way to the Ameriican Dream. It is also a direct route to white collar crime. How corrupt! There are classes on this subject at universities.
Collars are restraining. I feel badly about putting one on my dog. He has to go where I go. He is controlled by me.
Choking. A shock collar. Kind of like how I feel a lot. Like I try and run through a barrier, try and get out of my little fenced-in yard, but right when I come to the point of freedom, the collar goes and shocks me to put me in my place. I just want to GET OUT of this crap. But the collar is attached to a leash, and its holder won’t let go easily.
The girl pulled his chain towards her, yanking his collar once again. “You’ve been a bad, bad boy, haven’t you?” she barked. This was the game they always teased about playing. But this time, she meant it.
He’s working a white-collar job, but sometimes he forgets, like when he steps back into the playroom of his grandparent’s house. The world spins a little. It grows hot. He pulls at his blue collar, and remembers the times when Grampa Allen would burst through the door, snatching him up after a long day’s work at the fields.
i have them on my dress shirts I think they are not as simple as they seem to be.. for example, on the show ‘boardwalk empire’, Nucky has shirts with collars i’ve never seen before.
He walked in the door, planted a kiss on her cheek
and promised that he loved her.
She closed her eyes and pretended not to see
the lipstick on his collar.
His collar was folded half-up, half-down, and there was a wine stain on the side of the shirt. His hair, windblown and tousled, added to the disarray. On any other day, it wouldn’t matter, and I’d laugh about the curious, Abraham Lincoln shaped blob on his dress shirt.
But this isn’t any other day; it’s the day my gallery opens. It’s the day where I release all the thoughts I’ve had for the past three hundred and sixty-five.
The large, burly man grabbed the boy and before he knew it he was dangling thirty stories above street-level by his collar.
“Go ahead,” he said, looking the man in the eye, “do it. I dare you.”
The man averted his gaze and paused for a moment, as if to think. Then he let go. And the boy fell.
Then he flew.
Collared like a dog, she stood waiting in the raining, empty streets for a best friend that never came back.
The feild was the color of the sky right before a storm comes; that ugly shade of chartruese that electrifies the air with anticipation. Both sides held soldiers, warriors, fighters. But these fighters were also people. They had hearts buried deep down under the oppression they had suffered and the burning hatred they now nursed in their chests. They were souls. I blinked and the first gun fired. It happened just as the sky began to tinge a melted shade of orange with the sunrise. And then the bodies charged forward like ants, swarming over their hill, scrambling and screaming. A number of them died within the first minute. And within the next sixty seconds after that, triple that number had lost their lives. Bodies littered the ground, and the dying grass folded dying sodiers into its trampled scruff. The men wore suits of anger; their collars were blood. The sky was painted over with smoke until the rain came, spinning down in ropes, showering all of the people there; tiny bullets colliding with their skin. It hit me the hardest.
the top of a shirt
crisp
mr cobb
teachers
english teachers
wrinkly
shows what conditions you keep yourself in
fancy or not
blue or white – symbolizing of class
GOes on a shirt, make it classy, but if ya pop it, it just looks douchey. and thats no good, so never pop your collar my friends.
A collar is a part of a person’s clothing. There’s not that much to talk about when it comes to buttons because they are pretty darn simple. They tend to be the most visibly dirty part of a prrson’s shirt because of makeup and sweat.
I’d hold him down, by the same collar he used to use on me.
The one with the black leather and the spikes. He used to turn it inside out, to press the cold, pointed metal against my skin and choke me.
But not anymore.
If I had my chance, to get my hands on him, I’d pay him back for all the misery.
But I guess that’s what you meant by “living in the past,” isn’t it? All this violence… Maybe it’s not worth perpetuating.
it was placed perfectly on the dogs neck. a shiny new tag claiming that she now had a home. a place where people loved her. home. love/ ownership. just because you have a collar with a certain name doesn’t mean you cant change your stars.
Longing to do something significant
Lost in the ocean of the neatly dressed,
freshly pressed, white collared inhabitants.
She fastens the buttons of her dress all the way up to the collar. Looking in the mirror, she wonders if this shade of blue suits her as well as they said it did. Her small breasts look even more unimpressive than usual cloth, which really only looks like a man’s shirt taken in under the breasts. Angry, she rips the collar and the buttons go flying.
She grabs her bag and leaves with torn front and bared collarbone.
She took him by the collar, drawing him down to the rush carpet. She kissed him once but only for a while for it was in her nature to tease. She smiled as she undid his buttons. She could feel the excitement building within him. She whispered seductively in his ear, “Baby, hit the lights”.
Sherlock glanced out of the corner of his eye to ensure John was following along, paying attention. “With your cheekbones and your collar,” he’d ranted. with the most imperceptible of smirks, Sherlock forged ahead into the misty and popped his collar with a flourish. Surely enough, John rolled his eyes, but by now he had to realize that it really was all a show just for him. Sherlock silently vowed to find more things that John paid attention to.
His collar was crisp and white. The fold line was distinct and sharp. His stripped tie peeked out at just the right moment in front of his neck where the two top buttons came together. His tie continued it’s dissent down the front of his shirt splashing it with bright bold color. His collar was crisp and white.
His color was crisp and white. The fold line was distinct and sharp. The striped tie peeked out at just the right moment in front of his neck where the two top buttons came together. His color was crisp and white.
a collar is like a tree. it can look pretty but it is restrained. you can look at it but you dont want one. they cause pain. like a tree you always have to pick up the leaves. a collar makes you pick up the strength
the collar of his shirt was stained with red lipstick. his wife hated t owear red lipstick— she hadn’t worn it in over 20 years…. its amazing how one little stain can ruin a 20 year relationship
i was in the kitchen pouring some milk into my cereal when i heard some scratching at the front door. it was a Saturday, around 9 o’clock and i was alone in the house. i walked to the door and found a little dog with a bright red collar. “hi there” i said to it as i bent down. it was wagging its tail like it was Christmas and he was licking me all over my face. “hey hey!” i said laughing. i looked a the collar but there wasn’t a name tag, only a tiny scroll.
The pink and white collar of life we grow to learn of as a child is what keeps us young at heart when we finally become true responsible adults. It’s what controls our knowledge and conscious of right from wrong. Love and hate. Truth and lies. You and I.
collars can mean many things. A collar with a red lipstick stain could signify cheating, or a night out. A prim and proper collar could be a sign of high status and formality.
He turned up the collar of his overcoat. It kept the rain off his neck, but the cold night air blew effortlessly around and under.
That wasn’t what made him shiver.
It’s bone lay beneath your neck, so simple and sweet. Lovers trace along with lips and tongue, whispering sweet nothings.
baby there’s a shark in the water. there’s something underneath your bed. believe me that i said, baby there’s a shark in the water. i hear them barking at the moon, it should be soon…
sharks=collars.
collars are restraints in a world where there seem to be none (and yet far too many at the same time). there is no way to overlook the fact that collars keep you safe, but they also keep you from exploring. And exploration can be the most important thing a person does.
He holds my collar,
He keeps it tight.
I take it off,
run into the night.
His hands will slip,
His eyes will fall.
The collar will drop,
the end of it all.
It’s bone lays beneath the face, lovers trace this with their tongues, their lips kiss this softly, firmly, tenderly. Sweet nothings whispered.
I resting word . Iclar can describe your shirt. Some golf clubs and restaurants won’t allow entrance without a collar. The word collar can also describe your job type. Blue collar, poor working class. White collar, rich upper class making great pay.
a collar around my neck, restraining me. this is interesting. i thought i could be free, i thought i could be wild, i thought i could run. instead i have a collar wrapped around a neck. lead me with a leash, and i must follow. there is no choice. you are the collar, i’m the dog. but one day, i will break free from your restraints. and then i shall truly be free.
The lipstick on his collar was the clincher. He hadn’t even shut the front door before she’d caught a whiff of the heady perfume. He may as well have taken a bath in it. That might have been explained away though. The bright red smudge on the edge of that crisply pressed collar said it all though. Did he want to get caught? In that moment she felt angrier about the violation of that damned shirt that she’d washed and ironed and hung with care then the violation of her marriage.
my life is a bit askew and all I know to be true is the cup of tea staring back at me from this scratched wooden table. I wonder who the muffin man really is…mother can’t you see what is what and who is who and why I’m me and you are you. AMEN
the color of my collar has no meaning
i am human
color my collar human
hire me human
pay me human