I can never stop chewing on my nails. They lie stubby and decrepit on my fingers. Yellowing like the teeth of would-be philosophers. Crusty and unclean, if wonder if my hands will heal.
sujin shin
it hurts when you step on it, its sharp, can give you tetanus, use it to build stuff, hit it with a hammer, another name for sex
johnson
I don’t think a lot about nails though once I helped a friend prime a house for painting and hammered at least a thousand nails. I could make an awful pun and say “I nailed it,” but why? Then there are my nails which are in dire need of a mani/pedi.
My nails used to be so beautiful, when the used to grow. Now nothing grows. Am I dead? I don’t remember anymore. I thought I was alive until he couldn’t see me. Now I’m lost.
She bit her nail as she anxiously awaited to hear the news.
Desiree
I just want to bite it.
Nicole
Nailing is such dirty business. First you have to acquire a nail. That has to be the silliest task of them all. There are so many nails, so many shapes sizes and purposes, yet so very little time to nail all the nails possible. Nailing said nail is a peculiar task in the fact that there are so many ways one can nail. My advice, find a nail and nail her good.
Jon
nail tough dependable stubborn helpful pounding ouch my finger hard and strong. process and repair and c reating
Sarah
The coffin is a nail, an item drilled into the ground. The human body is a nail, pressed against the face, the map, of the globe world. Gravity is a nail, pushing us down into a core of unknown all. God is a nail. Done.
John Austin
The nail held the picture in place. The picture of the boy and the girl holding hands in the street. The nail secured them in that street forever. A picture of a simple time when the boy and the girl could just hold hands and be happy. There was nothing to stop them. Everytime she saw the two on the wall in the room, she longed for the simple time that they had. She longed to hold hands with someone in the street instead to going off into the world to get caught up in work and unhappiness. The nail held that picture in place. That nail stuck the jealousy to her mind. Until one day she tore that nail from the wall and the picture crashed to the ground. She was never again to be reminded that there was any option other than going to work and being unhappy. That simple time did not exist any longer; she went out into the world ignorant of the fact that she could be holding hands with someone in the street.
Madeline
Nailed again….not in the way I would have wanted. Not in the way I expected. But nailed. Hard and final. Ending of it. Hearing that final beep beep beep like a timer going off on all that it was I wanted before I got nailed.
Kristin
Something different under my nails
greets me every morning
I’m a scrubber, so I know what
ever is under my mild talons is new
I’ve had dirt, brown and orange
sand, tasting of fish and ice cream
paint, blue and fuming still
one time jelly
Yesterday, yellow grease and petrol
the day before rich green ink
the day before that dust
One day I imagine there will be blood
from a smiling partner beside me –
pressing the cheeks myself
Nail. My nails are pink. And short. I want to repaint my nails. I don’t know what else to write about the word nail. I mean, what profound statement can you come up with about the word nail? I don’t know. I wish I did know. Nail. Nail. Nail.
Tooth and nail, nail and claw, clawing and scraping, scrapes and bruises, bruised and battered, battering and bullying, bullied and shy, shying away and running from, running from and avoiding the question.
There is a nail in the wall. One nail in the middle of the empty wall. His picture used to hang from the nail. But when he never came home it got too hard to see the picture every day. She took it down. She moved. Now someone else lives in the house. They’ll hang something up soon.
Could they know that nail used to hold a picture of her son, the soldier?
um fingernails are on your hands. also you have nails on your toes. you can build things with nails too.
Stephanie
She hung up the phone and contemplated whether she should slide down the hillside to avoid them. Biting her nails in nervous anticipation, knowing that there was no escape, she did all she could: sit and wait, pretending that the police weren’t patrolling the area searching for her.
Well, can’t say i know much about nails. Im not much of a girly girl. I forget i’ve painted them and eat the horrible stuff.
Caitlin
He was nailed to a tree. Metal pierced his hands and feet. Can you imagine that? Someone placing a nail on the skin of your palm and then slamming a hammer down upon it over and over again until your screams die out because you have passed out from the pain. Did Jesus scream?
My nails have always been short. I can not stand them if they are long at all. I think hands are beautiful. And scars. They both show what someone has been through. It gives you an idea of who that person is.
this is the same word as yesterday. what? have i done something wrong? no its not my fault it’s the fault of the site. probably they’re just being lazy. well. i’m fastidious about my blog they should be fastidious about this. definitely not my fault.
As my father had sweat dripping down his brow, he looked down at me and grunted, “Boy, bring me another nail.” I never was a quick one.
He never got his nail.
Amanda Small
i stepped on a nail and the pain is indescribable. they used nails to hold my house together. in January i am going to san diego to build houses with nails and wood for homeless people with Habitat for Humanity. I am so excited.
there are so many different ways to nail. you can do it with a hammer. you can do it with another person. plus theres a thing. you can paint it. you can stab it into a baby’s head and kill it, though not recommended.
Megan Snyder
a nail connects things, a nail in my life is my girlfriend she connects me to the reality of adulthood. and taught me to grow up. she hammered into my head the urgency i need to become the man i am today.
Pablo
Steely glue. Perhaps the end of a finger. I am touched with a hammer or a file, either to hold or to look pretty. I hold things together, can scratch an itchy back.
It was a nail. Just a nail. But there was something about the way it jutted out of the wall, tinged with rust and at a peculiar angle that made my skin crawl. It was offensive, but I’m not sure why. I screwed my eyes shut and willed it to disappear.
I can never stop chewing on my nails. They lie stubby and decrepit on my fingers. Yellowing like the teeth of would-be philosophers. Crusty and unclean, if wonder if my hands will heal.
it hurts when you step on it, its sharp, can give you tetanus, use it to build stuff, hit it with a hammer, another name for sex
I don’t think a lot about nails though once I helped a friend prime a house for painting and hammered at least a thousand nails. I could make an awful pun and say “I nailed it,” but why? Then there are my nails which are in dire need of a mani/pedi.
When I stop writing this, it would be great if I can admit to myself that I nailed it, but doing great things require practise.
nailing one board to another the hot sun beating down. sweat drips off of the tip of his nose. building a home, a place to hang his hat.
My nails used to be so beautiful, when the used to grow. Now nothing grows. Am I dead? I don’t remember anymore. I thought I was alive until he couldn’t see me. Now I’m lost.
She bit her nail as she anxiously awaited to hear the news.
I just want to bite it.
Nailing is such dirty business. First you have to acquire a nail. That has to be the silliest task of them all. There are so many nails, so many shapes sizes and purposes, yet so very little time to nail all the nails possible. Nailing said nail is a peculiar task in the fact that there are so many ways one can nail. My advice, find a nail and nail her good.
nail tough dependable stubborn helpful pounding ouch my finger hard and strong. process and repair and c reating
The coffin is a nail, an item drilled into the ground. The human body is a nail, pressed against the face, the map, of the globe world. Gravity is a nail, pushing us down into a core of unknown all. God is a nail. Done.
The nail held the picture in place. The picture of the boy and the girl holding hands in the street. The nail secured them in that street forever. A picture of a simple time when the boy and the girl could just hold hands and be happy. There was nothing to stop them. Everytime she saw the two on the wall in the room, she longed for the simple time that they had. She longed to hold hands with someone in the street instead to going off into the world to get caught up in work and unhappiness. The nail held that picture in place. That nail stuck the jealousy to her mind. Until one day she tore that nail from the wall and the picture crashed to the ground. She was never again to be reminded that there was any option other than going to work and being unhappy. That simple time did not exist any longer; she went out into the world ignorant of the fact that she could be holding hands with someone in the street.
Nailed again….not in the way I would have wanted. Not in the way I expected. But nailed. Hard and final. Ending of it. Hearing that final beep beep beep like a timer going off on all that it was I wanted before I got nailed.
Something different under my nails
greets me every morning
I’m a scrubber, so I know what
ever is under my mild talons is new
I’ve had dirt, brown and orange
sand, tasting of fish and ice cream
paint, blue and fuming still
one time jelly
Yesterday, yellow grease and petrol
the day before rich green ink
the day before that dust
One day I imagine there will be blood
from a smiling partner beside me –
pressing the cheeks myself
Nail. My nails are pink. And short. I want to repaint my nails. I don’t know what else to write about the word nail. I mean, what profound statement can you come up with about the word nail? I don’t know. I wish I did know. Nail. Nail. Nail.
Tooth and nail, nail and claw, clawing and scraping, scrapes and bruises, bruised and battered, battering and bullying, bullied and shy, shying away and running from, running from and avoiding the question.
Nailing. Nail Nail. Snail nail. Snail mail. Jesus hates nails I bet he uses that grey putty that people use when they rent.
There is a nail in the wall. One nail in the middle of the empty wall. His picture used to hang from the nail. But when he never came home it got too hard to see the picture every day. She took it down. She moved. Now someone else lives in the house. They’ll hang something up soon.
Could they know that nail used to hold a picture of her son, the soldier?
um fingernails are on your hands. also you have nails on your toes. you can build things with nails too.
She hung up the phone and contemplated whether she should slide down the hillside to avoid them. Biting her nails in nervous anticipation, knowing that there was no escape, she did all she could: sit and wait, pretending that the police weren’t patrolling the area searching for her.
Well, can’t say i know much about nails. Im not much of a girly girl. I forget i’ve painted them and eat the horrible stuff.
He was nailed to a tree. Metal pierced his hands and feet. Can you imagine that? Someone placing a nail on the skin of your palm and then slamming a hammer down upon it over and over again until your screams die out because you have passed out from the pain. Did Jesus scream?
My nails have always been short. I can not stand them if they are long at all. I think hands are beautiful. And scars. They both show what someone has been through. It gives you an idea of who that person is.
this is the same word as yesterday. what? have i done something wrong? no its not my fault it’s the fault of the site. probably they’re just being lazy. well. i’m fastidious about my blog they should be fastidious about this. definitely not my fault.
As my father had sweat dripping down his brow, he looked down at me and grunted, “Boy, bring me another nail.” I never was a quick one.
He never got his nail.
i stepped on a nail and the pain is indescribable. they used nails to hold my house together. in January i am going to san diego to build houses with nails and wood for homeless people with Habitat for Humanity. I am so excited.
there are so many different ways to nail. you can do it with a hammer. you can do it with another person. plus theres a thing. you can paint it. you can stab it into a baby’s head and kill it, though not recommended.
a nail connects things, a nail in my life is my girlfriend she connects me to the reality of adulthood. and taught me to grow up. she hammered into my head the urgency i need to become the man i am today.
Steely glue. Perhaps the end of a finger. I am touched with a hammer or a file, either to hold or to look pretty. I hold things together, can scratch an itchy back.
It was a nail. Just a nail. But there was something about the way it jutted out of the wall, tinged with rust and at a peculiar angle that made my skin crawl. It was offensive, but I’m not sure why. I screwed my eyes shut and willed it to disappear.