I went to the market, they said they had fleas.
They didnt.
I went to the dog park they had fleas.
They shouldn’t.
I was tired of my life I wanted to flea.
I couldn’t.
So I guess I’ll learn to just be.
I am.
brett
You brushed me off, like I was a flea; an unseen annoyance, barely registering as a blip on your radar.
I watched the fleas jump from my daughter’s pristine head. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t want to scare my daughter. The fleas jumped like a suicidal person to their death in the brown shag carpet. I watched the fleas jump.
Our cat has fleas. I know this because I saw one jump off my foot when I was in the bathroom the other day. I know this because my boyfriend took the flea comb to the cat, and there they were, those little, black, jumping, itch-inducing insects. Apparently we’re going to “flea bomb” the house soon. Ummm, fun?
Huddled hunks or mounds of flesh and torn cloth, indistinguishable, lumbered in silence along the muddy lane. Their bare feet sunk ankle-deep in slop, a festering mixture of mud, manure, blood, the leakage from the bloated twisted bodies lined up on the flanks of the road. The city that lay behind them emptied of its life, filled up with maggots, windows dark and doorways resperating decay. They were fleeing, city to city, to someplace god had not lain his sudden vengeance, to somewhere that peace and life would still persist. Scurrying alongside them, attracted by the food falling from their bags, were rats, carrying the tiny remnants of that past and current horror.
There was once a flea on my dog. That flea kept jumping away. It itched the heck out of that poor dog of mine. The name of that dog was Anchor. Poor Anchor just kept on scratching away. Eventually, the flea died. Yep. That’s it. poor dog and poor flea.
jkvbdsjvn
She was sitting in the cinema with a friend waiting for the film to start when a rather smooth looking character sat beside her and whispered something to her. I don’t what it was but she soon sent him off with a flea in his ear.
Out of the red door he ran, feeling like a flea jumping from dog to dog. The streets of the city blurred by, and some people waved to him, but he never stopped, never chatted, never said hello. There were no hellos in this city anymore, not real ones. There was just the running, never to anything, just away from everything, just faster, as if maybe he could outrun all the pain he carried with him.
There were three things left on the table when I reached out across the couch. There were still three things on the table by the time I caught and killed the flea that jumped on my arm.
She knew the Flea Market was just around the next turn, but how could she convince him to stop. It was her only chance to save the one thing that they had lost.
Kelly
We just came back from the walk when I realized that my dog has fleas. I noticed one naughty flea jumping on his back while cleaned his feet before entering thw house. If there is one flea, for sure there is more. If there is more fleas in his fur, it means there are also fleas in the carpet. And on the sofa. And on the armchair. And in the bed. And in the majority of my clothes. My googness, invasion of the fleas!
Anna
I’m so lucky I don’t have fleas. There was a time when I couldn’t get rid of the suckers but it seems like a lifetime since I had to worry about those pesky little things. I wonder why people call little swap meets a “flea” market. It’s still just a bunch of crap someone’s selling.
The tiniest motion set off my internal alarm bells. In the pitch dark room, a minuscule spark of life flew in front of me, taunting me with its ability to move, uncaged. The captors laughed in the next room, probably drinking again, but I laughed for the first time in two and a half years at this little flea in front of me, trying with all its effort to take what has already been taken.
Living in England, when I was a child I’d watch American Television, just like anyone else. But I always wondered what the Flea Market was like. It sounded vile and interesting. I was pretty disappointed when I found out otherwise. It was like discovering there was no ham in the hamburger all over again.
Vivian Jaymes
The pest wouldn’t leave my sight. His incessant voice grated on my ears as his footsteps padded behind me. What I would give to just ball up my fist and plant in firmly in his acne ridden face. This summer vacation had started out bad, and was getting worse by the second.
I needed some bug repellent to ease myself of this burden.
Max Ryder
Why would anyone want to buy a flea, so why are there so many markets for them? It seems to be part of all ethnic cultures to celebrate the usefulness of these creatures that inhabit our houses, cats, dogs — and occasionally, children.
A flea sat at my window ceil. Its tiny feet kicking the chipped paint from the surface. I squinted my focus and began watching the wings of this insect eject into the air.
sully
The flea sat at my window ceil. its tiny feet began chipping the paint from the surface. i frowned in confusion.
loz
Yesterday I went to a flea market with my boyfriend. He didn’t like it, and to be honest, me neither.
Gosia
He looked across the water and smiled at his blushing feet, chuckling slightly. It was really all over now. He could finally rest. He could finally sleep. The boy with stars behind his eyelids looked out through the lake and knew he’d never go back to that house of terror. He was free.
He had a club foot and a hawk eye
and we called him Jesus.
But in reality, he was more like a Goliath
scattering crumbs to the pigeons (we were the pigeons).
Lo, and behold! The giant who towered over us,
flicked his fingers and we scattered like fleas.
fz
flea
Vikramaditya Deo
I touched my skin. Red. Irritated and irrational. Just like her. She’s a flea in my skin, under my skin. I touch her face with my nose but she quivers and shakes. I just want to make you feel loved. I want to free you from yourself. That’s why I can’t let you go.
Roddy
There was a flea market in a city which every corner of it was dark, almost no sun enlighten that damp place. A year later, when Cindy has move to different city, that flea market turns into a brighter place. Its wall covered in cream color, the sun enlighten every spot, and every month there is always an event or more hold in a new plaza in that market. Young people often come there and make it a brand new night spot to go. Cindy as a young people once went there. She was amazed and by that time convinced herself not to go there again. She was dissapointed by time, by her movement, by herself. Thenceforth, I’m sure she is an old aged young people.
sometimes i want to run away from where i’m at, but i think the old life wasn’t much better than what i have now.
i want to succeed, and i know i can do this.
a little bit at a time, and what if it’s too late?
spencer vaughn
It’s a tiny nuisance, this thought. It makes it hard to focus, a flea bite that he can’t itch, can’t reach. Sitting in the middle of the hotel room, he’s left to the tiny flea-sized fears that bite and gnaw at his mind.
hello i aM A FLEA AND i do flea related stuff and i don’t like pie or blocks but I love mince and dogs and dogs’ bloood and i am aspiring to be a writer even though that’s a really silly this to say because you do not aspire to become a writer, you simply are a writer.
Someone
sl. fghjkkk. fy, fhj. sflea agagdyilgur;ughivvdohgd;ghdghdghjdfh
alice the camel
“What is that?” He pinched at his shoulder with two bejweled fingers and grimaced at the result. “Ugh.”
“What is it?” Rosa stood on tip-toe to see. “Tch. It’s only a flea.”
“Only a flea?” He nearly snarled the words, but settled instead for grabbing her by the arms. “You empty-headed woman, do you think of nothing other than-”
“It’s only a flea.” She repeated, twisting in his grasp. “Let go of me.”
“As if.”
“Let go of me. I won’t ask again.”
“Good, because I won’t give you that chance to ask again,” he snapped. “Fleas! What next? Do you think I have the time to listen to your drivel?”
Not sure what it means it looks like flees which makes me think about dogs. It really isn’t that interesting. But I’m just doing what I’ve been told. Maybe this will helpn me be more creative as a
Gabrielle
You scratch your sudden itch. Not sure from whence it came.
But, as you try with all your might, the itch, it stays the same.
A horror slowly grows within you. “Whatever could this be?”
“Pleas, Oh God, whatever this is, let it not be fleas!”
Why was the first instinct to always flea? No one could catch wind, as air just falls through your finger tips and continues on unaffected. It cools but does not stay, a temporary relief that would eventually chill if it lingered. I guess I didn’t want anyone to grasp at me, I’d rather swirl through life lightly, unable to break my surroundings.
She swatted at the fly. “Aah, get off me!” Mumbling, she turned around and closed the door, then called downstairs, “Jenna, stop leaving the door open! You’re filling the house with flies!” Swatting at them, she went to get the fly-swatter.
Ole Monday
When i think about flea i think about getting up on saturday or sunday mornings and going to flea market and shopping for cheap used items. i also think about flea on animals from being outside.
Amanda Short
damn it. Why do you keep giving me FLEA? I mean…this is really bugging me! I could wing it, but I would rather fly to another site than sit here like this. Flea…yeah… I want to flee. Faster than you can say….
Guiltless Miss
I already did flea I already did flea I already did flea this thing didn’t save it how frustrating the kids would be totally lost at this point and I really cant blame them. how does it save your old ones do you print them do you do anything with them how many new words can you get could we use this in class this week?
voa voa voa voa sufoca sufoca sufoca gira em círculo despenca no chão. morre, desgraçada.
I went to the market, they said they had fleas.
They didnt.
I went to the dog park they had fleas.
They shouldn’t.
I was tired of my life I wanted to flea.
I couldn’t.
So I guess I’ll learn to just be.
I am.
You brushed me off, like I was a flea; an unseen annoyance, barely registering as a blip on your radar.
the one you love
will not break you.
(they do not need to.
when the time comes,
you will break yourself
for them, over, and
over, and over again.)
I watched the fleas jump from my daughter’s pristine head. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t want to scare my daughter. The fleas jumped like a suicidal person to their death in the brown shag carpet. I watched the fleas jump.
Our cat has fleas. I know this because I saw one jump off my foot when I was in the bathroom the other day. I know this because my boyfriend took the flea comb to the cat, and there they were, those little, black, jumping, itch-inducing insects. Apparently we’re going to “flea bomb” the house soon. Ummm, fun?
Huddled hunks or mounds of flesh and torn cloth, indistinguishable, lumbered in silence along the muddy lane. Their bare feet sunk ankle-deep in slop, a festering mixture of mud, manure, blood, the leakage from the bloated twisted bodies lined up on the flanks of the road. The city that lay behind them emptied of its life, filled up with maggots, windows dark and doorways resperating decay. They were fleeing, city to city, to someplace god had not lain his sudden vengeance, to somewhere that peace and life would still persist. Scurrying alongside them, attracted by the food falling from their bags, were rats, carrying the tiny remnants of that past and current horror.
There was once a flea on my dog. That flea kept jumping away. It itched the heck out of that poor dog of mine. The name of that dog was Anchor. Poor Anchor just kept on scratching away. Eventually, the flea died. Yep. That’s it. poor dog and poor flea.
She was sitting in the cinema with a friend waiting for the film to start when a rather smooth looking character sat beside her and whispered something to her. I don’t what it was but she soon sent him off with a flea in his ear.
Flea Flicker
Underwear Kicker
Clock Ticker
Kiss Hitter
Miss Sticker
Easy Fitter
Out of the red door he ran, feeling like a flea jumping from dog to dog. The streets of the city blurred by, and some people waved to him, but he never stopped, never chatted, never said hello. There were no hellos in this city anymore, not real ones. There was just the running, never to anything, just away from everything, just faster, as if maybe he could outrun all the pain he carried with him.
There were three things left on the table when I reached out across the couch. There were still three things on the table by the time I caught and killed the flea that jumped on my arm.
She knew the Flea Market was just around the next turn, but how could she convince him to stop. It was her only chance to save the one thing that they had lost.
We just came back from the walk when I realized that my dog has fleas. I noticed one naughty flea jumping on his back while cleaned his feet before entering thw house. If there is one flea, for sure there is more. If there is more fleas in his fur, it means there are also fleas in the carpet. And on the sofa. And on the armchair. And in the bed. And in the majority of my clothes. My googness, invasion of the fleas!
I’m so lucky I don’t have fleas. There was a time when I couldn’t get rid of the suckers but it seems like a lifetime since I had to worry about those pesky little things. I wonder why people call little swap meets a “flea” market. It’s still just a bunch of crap someone’s selling.
The tiniest motion set off my internal alarm bells. In the pitch dark room, a minuscule spark of life flew in front of me, taunting me with its ability to move, uncaged. The captors laughed in the next room, probably drinking again, but I laughed for the first time in two and a half years at this little flea in front of me, trying with all its effort to take what has already been taken.
Living in England, when I was a child I’d watch American Television, just like anyone else. But I always wondered what the Flea Market was like. It sounded vile and interesting. I was pretty disappointed when I found out otherwise. It was like discovering there was no ham in the hamburger all over again.
The pest wouldn’t leave my sight. His incessant voice grated on my ears as his footsteps padded behind me. What I would give to just ball up my fist and plant in firmly in his acne ridden face. This summer vacation had started out bad, and was getting worse by the second.
I needed some bug repellent to ease myself of this burden.
Why would anyone want to buy a flea, so why are there so many markets for them? It seems to be part of all ethnic cultures to celebrate the usefulness of these creatures that inhabit our houses, cats, dogs — and occasionally, children.
A flea sat at my window ceil. Its tiny feet kicking the chipped paint from the surface. I squinted my focus and began watching the wings of this insect eject into the air.
The flea sat at my window ceil. its tiny feet began chipping the paint from the surface. i frowned in confusion.
Yesterday I went to a flea market with my boyfriend. He didn’t like it, and to be honest, me neither.
He looked across the water and smiled at his blushing feet, chuckling slightly. It was really all over now. He could finally rest. He could finally sleep. The boy with stars behind his eyelids looked out through the lake and knew he’d never go back to that house of terror. He was free.
He had a club foot and a hawk eye
and we called him Jesus.
But in reality, he was more like a Goliath
scattering crumbs to the pigeons (we were the pigeons).
Lo, and behold! The giant who towered over us,
flicked his fingers and we scattered like fleas.
flea
I touched my skin. Red. Irritated and irrational. Just like her. She’s a flea in my skin, under my skin. I touch her face with my nose but she quivers and shakes. I just want to make you feel loved. I want to free you from yourself. That’s why I can’t let you go.
There was a flea market in a city which every corner of it was dark, almost no sun enlighten that damp place. A year later, when Cindy has move to different city, that flea market turns into a brighter place. Its wall covered in cream color, the sun enlighten every spot, and every month there is always an event or more hold in a new plaza in that market. Young people often come there and make it a brand new night spot to go. Cindy as a young people once went there. She was amazed and by that time convinced herself not to go there again. She was dissapointed by time, by her movement, by herself. Thenceforth, I’m sure she is an old aged young people.
sometimes i want to run away from where i’m at, but i think the old life wasn’t much better than what i have now.
i want to succeed, and i know i can do this.
a little bit at a time, and what if it’s too late?
It’s a tiny nuisance, this thought. It makes it hard to focus, a flea bite that he can’t itch, can’t reach. Sitting in the middle of the hotel room, he’s left to the tiny flea-sized fears that bite and gnaw at his mind.
she HATED the tiniest insects,
you shouldn’t believe in things that you can’t see
yet here she was, itchy on a Sunday morning.
hello i aM A FLEA AND i do flea related stuff and i don’t like pie or blocks but I love mince and dogs and dogs’ bloood and i am aspiring to be a writer even though that’s a really silly this to say because you do not aspire to become a writer, you simply are a writer.
sl. fghjkkk. fy, fhj. sflea agagdyilgur;ughivvdohgd;ghdghdghjdfh
“What is that?” He pinched at his shoulder with two bejweled fingers and grimaced at the result. “Ugh.”
“What is it?” Rosa stood on tip-toe to see. “Tch. It’s only a flea.”
“Only a flea?” He nearly snarled the words, but settled instead for grabbing her by the arms. “You empty-headed woman, do you think of nothing other than-”
“It’s only a flea.” She repeated, twisting in his grasp. “Let go of me.”
“As if.”
“Let go of me. I won’t ask again.”
“Good, because I won’t give you that chance to ask again,” he snapped. “Fleas! What next? Do you think I have the time to listen to your drivel?”
Not sure what it means it looks like flees which makes me think about dogs. It really isn’t that interesting. But I’m just doing what I’ve been told. Maybe this will helpn me be more creative as a
You scratch your sudden itch. Not sure from whence it came.
But, as you try with all your might, the itch, it stays the same.
A horror slowly grows within you. “Whatever could this be?”
“Pleas, Oh God, whatever this is, let it not be fleas!”
Why was the first instinct to always flea? No one could catch wind, as air just falls through your finger tips and continues on unaffected. It cools but does not stay, a temporary relief that would eventually chill if it lingered. I guess I didn’t want anyone to grasp at me, I’d rather swirl through life lightly, unable to break my surroundings.
She swatted at the fly. “Aah, get off me!” Mumbling, she turned around and closed the door, then called downstairs, “Jenna, stop leaving the door open! You’re filling the house with flies!” Swatting at them, she went to get the fly-swatter.
When i think about flea i think about getting up on saturday or sunday mornings and going to flea market and shopping for cheap used items. i also think about flea on animals from being outside.
damn it. Why do you keep giving me FLEA? I mean…this is really bugging me! I could wing it, but I would rather fly to another site than sit here like this. Flea…yeah… I want to flee. Faster than you can say….
I already did flea I already did flea I already did flea this thing didn’t save it how frustrating the kids would be totally lost at this point and I really cant blame them. how does it save your old ones do you print them do you do anything with them how many new words can you get could we use this in class this week?