I sit on my hands, counting the seconds and wondering if I have enough time to flee before he comes back. I can hear the air conditioner running. The water drip-drops off the condenser and splashes onto the concrete next to my foot. One, two, three drips in a row equal five seconds.
The kakramen were too quick, but I was quicker, I just knew it.
Since physics and the life I’ve grown to know slowly shattered to nothing,
I knew the only thing to do
was flee the situation. Before the fire grew.
Rita Lucia
You’re scared out of your mind. Because even though you know her, with palm of your hand and upside down, even though you can figure her out blindfolded and in the dark, she’s still so new to you that it’s scary. Every time you touch her there’s a new bump to dicover, every time you talk there’s a new experience, a new thought to figure out. It’s so fascinating that you want to delve deep into her, drink her up, bottle her up and take her with you everywhere you go. But you’re sure she doesn’t share the same feelings; that you’re just her friend. So, instead, you turn the other way and flee; flee from your feelings, from your wishes, from her. And you pretend you’re happy by doing that.
She’s just as intense as you, albeit in a calmer, less obvious way and that scares the hell out of you. Such intensity isn’t compatible, you’ve learned it already. You want things too much, she wants things too much, you end up going against each other. Secretly, though, you love it. You love seeing her flushed, hands wild, eyes flaming, trying to explain to you why she had to get her way, so you argue further, just to see her fall deeper. You enjoy it and it’s so fucking scary that instead of taking it to another level, you flee. You use those arguments as excuses to get away, to put a barrier between the both of you, to calm down and to forget how much you love her. Because you don’t like people, you love them.
However, with her soft, warm breath hitting the side of your neck and her warm body cuddled up into yours, you can’t keep her out. You’re like a moth drawn to her flame. You fight and you make up a day later, whispering until the late hours in the morning, lost in your own world inside one of those bunks, under the covers, limbs and thoughts tangled together.
In those moments, you fall further and you just hope that, when you finally let yourself towards her instead of fleeing, she’s there to catch you.
Bia
“Run.” The voice whispered. “Get out of here.” I knew this was the person that only I saw. This was the person who no one else could see. I understand why. It’s technically due to my schizophrenia, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they were the ones who were messed up, not me. What if this this person really were there, and they couldn’t see the truth. They’re the wrong ones; not me.
I try to run, but the black ooze covers my mouth, muting my words. My poems. My running becomes stumbling, tripping, but I do not fall. Every rock is just a little obstacle for my character to overcome, becoming a better person. The black ooze flickers at my feet, taunting me with a carrot on a stick, with death, but I continue to breathe and speak and sing my own words, even while the black ooze takes me under.
I want to flee, but I can’t move. My feet are paralyzed, and I can’t tell if it’s my fear or my courage. His hot breath is in my face, screaming at me. I can see through his eyes into a flaming soul.
He was scared. His heart drummed in his chest, and he felt the terror rising in him. Oh god no… He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to die; not yet. His feet moved quicker than his thoughts, though, and he continued to run as fast as he could, chest heaving as he panted.
Vivi
“its the only thing he knows really and it’s not like he likes to, it’s just he can’t- he can’t let himself get attached to anyone in this town so he does the only thing he can do at a time like this: he flees. Again. How anybody can do that, i don’t know, he just does.”
i suck at everything
She turned on her heel to flee from him, crashing through the underbrush and tripping over roots that blocked her way. She heard no signs of pursuit, so it was quite a surprise to her when she came crashing through a clearing and found him standing at the center, waiting for her. She kept forgetting that things were different here.
go and flee, cuz nobody wants ya they say
but flee i shall not
flee i shall not
go and flee, cuz nobody cares about ya they say
but flee i shall not
flee i shall not
i dont want to write anymore of this
so flee i shall
flee i shall
to go and do other things
and come back another day
but for now
flee i shall
Brittany (you can call me britt if you want or don't i do not care whatsoever)
flee
flee she said
so flee i will not
flee i will not
she doesn’t say what i do and do not do
for i am my own person!
an individual who makes smart, clear, and precise decisions
so flee i will not
Brittany (you can call me britt if you want or don't i do not care whatsoever)
I fled the stagnant
fields of files
my Imagination
running wild
dreaming dreams of
poetry
from which my
mind
is never free
I run and drift and climb and flee
from the corporate
machinery
but here i waste
and here i sigh
for those ideals
I’ve held on high
Flee! flee from the hazardous world around you
Away from the people, rules and regulations!
Go do what you want, desire and crave!
Cuz that’s all anyone could ever want and hey you my friend have the fantastic opportunity!
Think of the experiences you will embark on!
Hurry, and leave this world
Go and be divergent
Flee this place, child
Be happy
Whatever that definition is
Brittany (you can call me britt if you want or don't i do not care whatsoever)
Fleeing my boring ordinariness, I set fourth on a quest to live a life that I’m passionate about. Law school wasn’t fulfilling. Neither was moving to Oregon. I want to go back to New York, just to visit; just to be in the mix with other tourists.
I eternally flee. I am always running away from something, whether it’s the bad that I’m scared to face, or the good I’m too scared to enjoy. This evasive behavior is tiring and I don’t think I can run anymore. My only option is to stay, and let everything wash over me for the first time in my life.
I flee from this area, they’ll never find me after I complete this large feat, I will escape, I will concur and move on.
Hope
She was not going to look back no matter how much he screamed and no matter how bad it wrenched her heart was wan not going to look back. He told her to flee and that is what she was going to.
Her flee from the mountain was swift. She could feel their eyes on her back as she sped down the rocky slope. Her feet crunched roots and dried leaves beneath her jagged path. Her legs pounded down the mountainside, aided by gravity’s punishing help.
Canadian Geese flee to warmer weather in the fall. They flee to South America in a V-formation and all take turns leading the V . They follow the same migratory pattern and stop in the same place each year.
Levana
Flee is a means to escape. Why do people need to escape? Where to people escape to? Many people around the world are faced with challenges such as
Trial
Others can flee, but from this point forward, I’ll be standing my ground. Frustration fuels determination just as gasoline feeds the flames: let’s light up the night.
He ran and ran and ran.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
What he saw, he couldn’t describe it. It was too absurd, too unreal.
Is it a dream?
Is truth stranger than fiction?
He didn’t know. He didn’t know anymore.
He just needed to go.
I flee from sight
hurt spreeing from my pores
I cannot run quite fast enough
I wonder when this chase with stop
my heart pounds in my chest
Trying to burst free from the confines of my rib cage
Which holds it in place as a cage a bird
bea
“It’s a wordplay,” she said. “The flea bugged out. And the bug fleed.”
“It’s ‘fled'” he said.
Julie
I’m running. Running to someone, or something. There is so much running that I forget whether I’m coming, or going.
It’s time to flee….the storm is in the Gulf and it’s headed to the MIssissippi coast. We’ve done this before…Flee for your life! The storm is coming! We pack up the animals, and we go!
Chana
It’s time to flee….the storm is in the Gulf and it’s headed to the MIssissippi coast. We’ve done this before…Flee for your life! The storm is coming! We pack up the animals, and
Chana
There once was a boy who needed to flee. It was show and tell in his classroom and he had a terrible accident. The ant farm he was holding slipped from his hands and had shattered on the floor. All he wanted to do was run from the room screaming along with the rapidly fleeing ants!!
Megan
This is a trial. We are going to try to find out if this will work as an exit pass. I am not sure how it will work via e-mail. I am running out of stuff to write. So
Trial
I was so imtimidated about being asked to speak infront of the group, that I was tempted to flee the room before I broke out in hives from anxiety and fright.
Deb
Too often we think is beter to flee than to face new challenge. New is enticing but scary at the same time too.
Cindy
Amy and Sarah fled the scene in a hurry. “RUN!” Sarah yelled. The girls ran down a back alley which was conveniently located right beside the bank. Amy could not believe that they had actually done it. They had robbed a bank! The bag she was carrying was filled to the brim with stacks of cash.
MacKenzie
The criminal was fleeing from the scene of bank robbery. He did not see his get away car. How was he going to escape?
Levana
Does time flee? Or do we just waste our time. We have been granted with the same amount of seconds than any other great Man. But there’s just never enought time.
Macha
She prayed the hinges of the cage wouldn’t squeak as she ever-so-carefully eased the small door open. Henry wrinkled his pink nose at her in confusion.
“You’re free to flee now! Go!” She shoo-ed him out of the cage.
Flee makes me afraid, as if I’m expected to run away. I’m not sure what’s scarier though: running away, or feeling like I might before it even happens. We all want to be something, and the fear of not being that when the time comes could be the scariest thing of all.
How to keep track of the plot? the line of it is so light, so faded in spots, not even as sure as walking across an iced-over neighborhood lake, so you know how it freezes, heavy to light, depending on how the season progresses – life and death, so thin a line, really, from start to finish – like being the ink and not the pen, those fleeing souls vs. the adventuring ones with bulls’ horns in their hands and on their heads, leaning into life, writing it out to the end.
I sit on my hands, counting the seconds and wondering if I have enough time to flee before he comes back. I can hear the air conditioner running. The water drip-drops off the condenser and splashes onto the concrete next to my foot. One, two, three drips in a row equal five seconds.
The kakramen were too quick, but I was quicker, I just knew it.
Since physics and the life I’ve grown to know slowly shattered to nothing,
I knew the only thing to do
was flee the situation. Before the fire grew.
You’re scared out of your mind. Because even though you know her, with palm of your hand and upside down, even though you can figure her out blindfolded and in the dark, she’s still so new to you that it’s scary. Every time you touch her there’s a new bump to dicover, every time you talk there’s a new experience, a new thought to figure out. It’s so fascinating that you want to delve deep into her, drink her up, bottle her up and take her with you everywhere you go. But you’re sure she doesn’t share the same feelings; that you’re just her friend. So, instead, you turn the other way and flee; flee from your feelings, from your wishes, from her. And you pretend you’re happy by doing that.
She’s just as intense as you, albeit in a calmer, less obvious way and that scares the hell out of you. Such intensity isn’t compatible, you’ve learned it already. You want things too much, she wants things too much, you end up going against each other. Secretly, though, you love it. You love seeing her flushed, hands wild, eyes flaming, trying to explain to you why she had to get her way, so you argue further, just to see her fall deeper. You enjoy it and it’s so fucking scary that instead of taking it to another level, you flee. You use those arguments as excuses to get away, to put a barrier between the both of you, to calm down and to forget how much you love her. Because you don’t like people, you love them.
However, with her soft, warm breath hitting the side of your neck and her warm body cuddled up into yours, you can’t keep her out. You’re like a moth drawn to her flame. You fight and you make up a day later, whispering until the late hours in the morning, lost in your own world inside one of those bunks, under the covers, limbs and thoughts tangled together.
In those moments, you fall further and you just hope that, when you finally let yourself towards her instead of fleeing, she’s there to catch you.
“Run.” The voice whispered. “Get out of here.” I knew this was the person that only I saw. This was the person who no one else could see. I understand why. It’s technically due to my schizophrenia, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they were the ones who were messed up, not me. What if this this person really were there, and they couldn’t see the truth. They’re the wrong ones; not me.
I try to run, but the black ooze covers my mouth, muting my words. My poems. My running becomes stumbling, tripping, but I do not fall. Every rock is just a little obstacle for my character to overcome, becoming a better person. The black ooze flickers at my feet, taunting me with a carrot on a stick, with death, but I continue to breathe and speak and sing my own words, even while the black ooze takes me under.
I want to flee, but I can’t move. My feet are paralyzed, and I can’t tell if it’s my fear or my courage. His hot breath is in my face, screaming at me. I can see through his eyes into a flaming soul.
He was scared. His heart drummed in his chest, and he felt the terror rising in him. Oh god no… He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to die; not yet. His feet moved quicker than his thoughts, though, and he continued to run as fast as he could, chest heaving as he panted.
“its the only thing he knows really and it’s not like he likes to, it’s just he can’t- he can’t let himself get attached to anyone in this town so he does the only thing he can do at a time like this: he flees. Again. How anybody can do that, i don’t know, he just does.”
She turned on her heel to flee from him, crashing through the underbrush and tripping over roots that blocked her way. She heard no signs of pursuit, so it was quite a surprise to her when she came crashing through a clearing and found him standing at the center, waiting for her. She kept forgetting that things were different here.
how bout no.
fleeing is overrated anyways
go and flee, cuz nobody wants ya they say
but flee i shall not
flee i shall not
go and flee, cuz nobody cares about ya they say
but flee i shall not
flee i shall not
i dont want to write anymore of this
so flee i shall
flee i shall
to go and do other things
and come back another day
but for now
flee i shall
flee
flee she said
so flee i will not
flee i will not
she doesn’t say what i do and do not do
for i am my own person!
an individual who makes smart, clear, and precise decisions
so flee i will not
I fled the stagnant
fields of files
my Imagination
running wild
dreaming dreams of
poetry
from which my
mind
is never free
I run and drift and climb and flee
from the corporate
machinery
but here i waste
and here i sigh
for those ideals
I’ve held on high
Flee! flee from the hazardous world around you
Away from the people, rules and regulations!
Go do what you want, desire and crave!
Cuz that’s all anyone could ever want and hey you my friend have the fantastic opportunity!
Think of the experiences you will embark on!
Hurry, and leave this world
Go and be divergent
Flee this place, child
Be happy
Whatever that definition is
Fleeing my boring ordinariness, I set fourth on a quest to live a life that I’m passionate about. Law school wasn’t fulfilling. Neither was moving to Oregon. I want to go back to New York, just to visit; just to be in the mix with other tourists.
fast, run, through the cement,
pound until the feet are black
as antelope’s hooves.
I jump out of the way of a bicycle,
and see it swerve into a car.
Flee, flee, from the scene. Flee
I eternally flee. I am always running away from something, whether it’s the bad that I’m scared to face, or the good I’m too scared to enjoy. This evasive behavior is tiring and I don’t think I can run anymore. My only option is to stay, and let everything wash over me for the first time in my life.
I flee from this area, they’ll never find me after I complete this large feat, I will escape, I will concur and move on.
She was not going to look back no matter how much he screamed and no matter how bad it wrenched her heart was wan not going to look back. He told her to flee and that is what she was going to.
Her flee from the mountain was swift. She could feel their eyes on her back as she sped down the rocky slope. Her feet crunched roots and dried leaves beneath her jagged path. Her legs pounded down the mountainside, aided by gravity’s punishing help.
Canadian Geese flee to warmer weather in the fall. They flee to South America in a V-formation and all take turns leading the V . They follow the same migratory pattern and stop in the same place each year.
Flee is a means to escape. Why do people need to escape? Where to people escape to? Many people around the world are faced with challenges such as
Others can flee, but from this point forward, I’ll be standing my ground. Frustration fuels determination just as gasoline feeds the flames: let’s light up the night.
He ran and ran and ran.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
What he saw, he couldn’t describe it. It was too absurd, too unreal.
Is it a dream?
Is truth stranger than fiction?
He didn’t know. He didn’t know anymore.
He just needed to go.
I flee from sight
hurt spreeing from my pores
I cannot run quite fast enough
I wonder when this chase with stop
my heart pounds in my chest
Trying to burst free from the confines of my rib cage
Which holds it in place as a cage a bird
“It’s a wordplay,” she said. “The flea bugged out. And the bug fleed.”
“It’s ‘fled'” he said.
I’m running. Running to someone, or something. There is so much running that I forget whether I’m coming, or going.
It’s time to flee….the storm is in the Gulf and it’s headed to the MIssissippi coast. We’ve done this before…Flee for your life! The storm is coming! We pack up the animals, and we go!
It’s time to flee….the storm is in the Gulf and it’s headed to the MIssissippi coast. We’ve done this before…Flee for your life! The storm is coming! We pack up the animals, and
There once was a boy who needed to flee. It was show and tell in his classroom and he had a terrible accident. The ant farm he was holding slipped from his hands and had shattered on the floor. All he wanted to do was run from the room screaming along with the rapidly fleeing ants!!
This is a trial. We are going to try to find out if this will work as an exit pass. I am not sure how it will work via e-mail. I am running out of stuff to write. So
I was so imtimidated about being asked to speak infront of the group, that I was tempted to flee the room before I broke out in hives from anxiety and fright.
Too often we think is beter to flee than to face new challenge. New is enticing but scary at the same time too.
Amy and Sarah fled the scene in a hurry. “RUN!” Sarah yelled. The girls ran down a back alley which was conveniently located right beside the bank. Amy could not believe that they had actually done it. They had robbed a bank! The bag she was carrying was filled to the brim with stacks of cash.
The criminal was fleeing from the scene of bank robbery. He did not see his get away car. How was he going to escape?
Does time flee? Or do we just waste our time. We have been granted with the same amount of seconds than any other great Man. But there’s just never enought time.
She prayed the hinges of the cage wouldn’t squeak as she ever-so-carefully eased the small door open. Henry wrinkled his pink nose at her in confusion.
“You’re free to flee now! Go!” She shoo-ed him out of the cage.
Flee makes me afraid, as if I’m expected to run away. I’m not sure what’s scarier though: running away, or feeling like I might before it even happens. We all want to be something, and the fear of not being that when the time comes could be the scariest thing of all.
How to keep track of the plot? the line of it is so light, so faded in spots, not even as sure as walking across an iced-over neighborhood lake, so you know how it freezes, heavy to light, depending on how the season progresses – life and death, so thin a line, really, from start to finish – like being the ink and not the pen, those fleeing souls vs. the adventuring ones with bulls’ horns in their hands and on their heads, leaning into life, writing it out to the end.