But now she was free, to live her own life, her own way. Scrawling on walls, plastering pictures and photos all over the place, making her own home, finally, in the place she had lived so long.
tonykeyesjapan
Ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, this plaster got me feelin way out there up on a truck. Like, slathered and blathered all that, yuss. Like, watch — I put the plaster on the wall and slap on the wallpaper and it’s like Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, it’s STUCK. Ayyyyyyyyyy. Here, here, try it. It’ll STUCK.
The apartment was crumbling around me. After he died I couldn’t keep it up anymore. There was too much. It was an old place to begin with, and had plenty of problems. We were going to fix it up together, I could see the plaster beneath the peeling layer of paint we had wanted to cover. Lilac. We were going to paint over it lilac. But he was gone now. The apartment was just too much him. If I stayed he would always be on my mind, and I can’t live like hat anymore. He’s gone- so I will be too.
Megan
I often think about partitions in information. Just a side effect of work, I guess. Here’s the thing. I’ve been in many in cathedral, and I have to say the way plaster has been applied really effects harmonic resonance. #truefacts #travel
No man is an island
but I guess we’re all fragmented
Strewn in shards and plastered—
whitewash over super glue
like “I’m doing fine, thank you.”
We don’t ask about the bell
because we know for whom it tolls
They’re in obituaries
She sits down in the sun. Legs tucked under and top undone.
sweat sticks her down and down into her skin, doubling over and under her knees so she won’t ever get up again. She is grass on her thighs and ants running up her legs and her thinking that one might just climb up her vagina because it’s a really precarious hole, but either way she’s here now and at that pinned down point in time these are her thoughts and she’s not going nowhere because she’s already there
Bea
plastered to the wall, it can’t and won’t come off. . . . Bittersweet memories. . . The past that won’t leave me alone. Right in front of me, always and forever
“Come on, let’s get out of here while we still can!”
“Not yet. Sorry, you go.”
Through gritted teeth he stared. Furious.
This was stupid, foolish. A waste of time from the beginning. But they knew that before going in. Before they that bastard ever hobbled into the room on his cane and fancy new leg, his grin plastering the walls of the apartment in hope and good intentions.
And terror.
God, the terror was so evident. They didn’t even speak a word, not at first. He just stood there, grinning at his friend who could only stare back, sucking his teeth against fortified teeth. But after a couple of minutes, after his jaw relaxed and his lungs emptied themselves, he said, “Okay.”
Another rumble.
“This was stupid, so stupid,” he thought as he ran away. Leaving his friend there, his shiny new leg not as shiny as it was before they crawled through the earth, before it was smashed to bits.
He wanted to turn back. And, by God, in another life he did and they both made it out alive. But not in this life.
he was plastered, of that there was no doubt. No one could have not been, and especially not someone as scrawny as Luther. Lucien was patently unimpressed.
“Hair of the dog that bit you,” he argued when Rachel tried to tear him away from his third-full bottle. “Allus works.”
Becca
“Plaster.”
“Plaster?”
“Yes. It’s the thing. The rage, I believe. It would be the rage, isn’t it? What year are we in?”
She frowned. “Hmm.”
“I always forget. Some people forget if it’s a Monday or a Tuesday. I forget what year I’m in. I don’t really change, you know, so it’s hard to keep in mind exactly what time period I’m in.”
“Pardon?”
“Time period. You know the thing, don’t you? Don’t worry.” he said, seeing her expression, “You do? I probably shouldn’t have used that wording. You don’t understand.”
Darn, I really wanted waffles but I got plaster AHAHAHAHAHA I don’t know if my body is sick or not what’s plaster I think it’s that thing with walls or something but it reminds me of plastic which is pretty cool I guess plastic can suffocate babies and I don’t know what to write about Toast I hope you love me for this because I’m just typing a really long run-on sentence for …done. xD
Sam
The plaster on the wall was cracked and crumbling. Horse hair poked out from it, giving the wall an eerie look. She knew horse hair plaster was common with old houses in Connecticut from that period, but the site of it still unnerved her. As a child she had believed her older brother’s story of small girls being walled up in their house when they misbehaved. As a young teen, her uncle had explained the history of housebuilding to her during the renovation of her parents house over their last summer together. As a detective, she found the sight of hair reaching out from wall cracks prophetic knowing full well there was a real body in the wall not more than 20 feet away on the other side of the yellow tape.
I’ve had many casts in my years as a teenager. I have not had the chance to experience a plaster cast, but I’m sure once you’ve worn one, you have worn them all.
Rory
the smiles are plastered on your face
in the same way that the kisses are everywhere else and then some.
we were pretty plastered too,
everyone was but it was in the best way,
our art is the only thing that can handle us.
i have a secret, and it is
on the closer side of the room.
it’s something i share
with my little cousin vivienne.
when we moved the couch against
the wall,
a few weeks ago,
she pushed a bit too hard
and there is a little nick in the plaster
of the wall.
(we didn’t tell anyone.)
Kimberly
plaster of Paris, slippery crack head in white, crusty skin, peeling sideways, flakes your finger tips, eye squinting bubbles dry. plasters wet and hangs like flypaper, silver and twisting, let it straighten out.
She refused to take the plaster mask off, for fear that her husband would realize that she was not beautiful. She denied every request to strip away the cover, blocking her husband’s curious fingers with flailing hands, shaking her head wildly from side to side but the string holding firm against the back of her temples.
Even when she slept, he could not take it off. It was as if, after all these years, the disguise had become a second layer of skin.
Belinda Roddie
white dust falls from above filling my lungs and making it hard to breath. Its the signs of a crumpling past. I don’t move because I would rather choke than face the reality that all I knew is done and gone.
Indicative of that night’s events were shards of glass and pieces of broken pipes, forcefully torn off from the outside of the crumbling restaurant’s walls. No one was hurt, save for some bruises on Dean’s left arm when he shielded his face from falling debris during the incident. The unwelcome instigators have long since left and some townspeople have volunteered to clean up the place. Fresh plaster is being applied on various parts of the walls and the ceilings inside, as well. Annie locates Dean before he sees her, she immediately drops the broom she was holding and approaches him.
white falling from above, the signs of a crumbling past filling every bit of me and my being.
kathrosis
i was plastered against the wall with fear running through my bones. I wanted out, but you wouldn’t let me find the door. white dust fell form above like snow. it covered every part of me and tasted of chalk, plaster dust. this place, was no place for anyone to live it was crumbling to the ground all around us.” just let me go!” I screamed, but you wouldn’t.
kathrosis
Plaster reminds me of glue which reminds me of thise string balls I made which reminds me of balloons because you need those to make the string balls which reminds me of shivers because I shiver when balloons pop…
It’s the bandage across his face, the ceiling above him. It’s the faces across the hospital tv screen and the condition of the man who was driving the other car. He’s unharmed, mostly. But while he heals, all he can see and think about is plaster.
James Boyle
It’s the bandage across his face, the ceiling above him. It’s the faces across the hospital tv screen and the condition of the man who was driving the other car. He’s unharmed, mostly. But while he heals, all he can see and think about is plaster.
James Boyle
I will send you shivers through your hips
a terse touch and soft word plastered on your lips
I will send you letters written in your sighs
a gentle loving gesture in the valley of your thighs
Edgar Allen Poe closed up cats in walls, and serial killers seal concrete shells around their beautiful victims, pale men make mannequins with pretty lips and voices ringing out screams inside their plaster cages.
We scrape putty on our bodies, and there we are, statuesque, as though Earth has a history and the words do not need knowing because here, in porcelain glowing like patent, is proof that whatever happened, it was magnificent.
Sometimes I like to get plastered at parties. Not because I’m insecure or anything.. It’s just fun! And not every night either, or every week, or even every month. Just on occasion, as an escape, to let loose and not care about a thing.
Kla
If I plaster you with kindness will you believe my sincerity? I have long been over this competition between us that you started. It’s time to let go. It is time to move on. I sincerely wish for you to give up your hatred towards me, so that we can at least be
HVH
She just kept building it up higher and higher.
Walls made of plaster.
She used it to fix the broken walls,
And to block out the poison
Sunlight.
But the thing with plaster is
All it takes it one punch
For the world to come crumbling down.
tjlu
Memories cascaded through her mind like the crumbling plaster falling from beneath the brittle, faded wallpaper she ran her hand over.
You say you love me
But your lies have always been
More than obvious
I tend to get wrapped up
In them anyway
And plaster on a fake smile
In the hopes of someday
Making them true…
Cat
Plaster is commonly looked at as something that you would use to fix an object with, mainly a wall. But you could also look at it has something to mend figuratively speaking like with in your personal life.
lesley
Work; that’s all it was. There was no happiness in his smile as he slapped spoonful after spoonful of that white goop onto the walls. He covered all the holes, and when it was done, it was beautiful and smooth. But this house that they were building would never be a home.
“Ow!” she hissed, ducking as she narrowly avoided a chunk of falling plaster. The ceiling was collapsing, and she couldn’t see the exit. Little drops of the material were raining down upon her, and every so often a large, jagged section would break off.
Cordelia
the old crumby ceiling that she loved to pick at and have then have them fall on her like snow and its get in her eyes god they were hiding but she liked keeping herself entertained by constantly picking at them she thought that maybe if she picked eniugh ll the ugly pieces would fall and it wouldnt look quite so shitty
When pain creates a barrier too strong to break through. In life we can love or we can plaster someones hearts with hardened and impenetrable matter. That matter is made up of memories, lost voyages, missed opportunities and forget displays of affection. I therefore define “Love Plastering” as heartbreak so difficult it would take a life time to break though.
Arianna
The last thing he did — in fact it killed him — was to drink plaster. I suppose he’s rotted away now, but the plaster shape of his gastrointestinal tract remains.
But now she was free, to live her own life, her own way. Scrawling on walls, plastering pictures and photos all over the place, making her own home, finally, in the place she had lived so long.
Ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, this plaster got me feelin way out there up on a truck. Like, slathered and blathered all that, yuss. Like, watch — I put the plaster on the wall and slap on the wallpaper and it’s like Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, it’s STUCK. Ayyyyyyyyyy. Here, here, try it. It’ll STUCK.
The apartment was crumbling around me. After he died I couldn’t keep it up anymore. There was too much. It was an old place to begin with, and had plenty of problems. We were going to fix it up together, I could see the plaster beneath the peeling layer of paint we had wanted to cover. Lilac. We were going to paint over it lilac. But he was gone now. The apartment was just too much him. If I stayed he would always be on my mind, and I can’t live like hat anymore. He’s gone- so I will be too.
I often think about partitions in information. Just a side effect of work, I guess. Here’s the thing. I’ve been in many in cathedral, and I have to say the way plaster has been applied really effects harmonic resonance. #truefacts #travel
No man is an island
but I guess we’re all fragmented
Strewn in shards and plastered—
whitewash over super glue
like “I’m doing fine, thank you.”
We don’t ask about the bell
because we know for whom it tolls
They’re in obituaries
She sits down in the sun. Legs tucked under and top undone.
sweat sticks her down and down into her skin, doubling over and under her knees so she won’t ever get up again. She is grass on her thighs and ants running up her legs and her thinking that one might just climb up her vagina because it’s a really precarious hole, but either way she’s here now and at that pinned down point in time these are her thoughts and she’s not going nowhere because she’s already there
plastered to the wall, it can’t and won’t come off. . . . Bittersweet memories. . . The past that won’t leave me alone. Right in front of me, always and forever
A rumble beneath their feet.
“Come on, let’s get out of here while we still can!”
“Not yet. Sorry, you go.”
Through gritted teeth he stared. Furious.
This was stupid, foolish. A waste of time from the beginning. But they knew that before going in. Before they that bastard ever hobbled into the room on his cane and fancy new leg, his grin plastering the walls of the apartment in hope and good intentions.
And terror.
God, the terror was so evident. They didn’t even speak a word, not at first. He just stood there, grinning at his friend who could only stare back, sucking his teeth against fortified teeth. But after a couple of minutes, after his jaw relaxed and his lungs emptied themselves, he said, “Okay.”
Another rumble.
“This was stupid, so stupid,” he thought as he ran away. Leaving his friend there, his shiny new leg not as shiny as it was before they crawled through the earth, before it was smashed to bits.
He wanted to turn back. And, by God, in another life he did and they both made it out alive. But not in this life.
Maybe the next would fare better.
he was plastered, of that there was no doubt. No one could have not been, and especially not someone as scrawny as Luther. Lucien was patently unimpressed.
“Hair of the dog that bit you,” he argued when Rachel tried to tear him away from his third-full bottle. “Allus works.”
“Plaster.”
“Plaster?”
“Yes. It’s the thing. The rage, I believe. It would be the rage, isn’t it? What year are we in?”
She frowned. “Hmm.”
“I always forget. Some people forget if it’s a Monday or a Tuesday. I forget what year I’m in. I don’t really change, you know, so it’s hard to keep in mind exactly what time period I’m in.”
“Pardon?”
“Time period. You know the thing, don’t you? Don’t worry.” he said, seeing her expression, “You do? I probably shouldn’t have used that wording. You don’t understand.”
Darn, I really wanted waffles but I got plaster AHAHAHAHAHA I don’t know if my body is sick or not what’s plaster I think it’s that thing with walls or something but it reminds me of plastic which is pretty cool I guess plastic can suffocate babies and I don’t know what to write about Toast I hope you love me for this because I’m just typing a really long run-on sentence for …done. xD
The plaster on the wall was cracked and crumbling. Horse hair poked out from it, giving the wall an eerie look. She knew horse hair plaster was common with old houses in Connecticut from that period, but the site of it still unnerved her. As a child she had believed her older brother’s story of small girls being walled up in their house when they misbehaved. As a young teen, her uncle had explained the history of housebuilding to her during the renovation of her parents house over their last summer together. As a detective, she found the sight of hair reaching out from wall cracks prophetic knowing full well there was a real body in the wall not more than 20 feet away on the other side of the yellow tape.
I can see why artists would choose her as a muse, and plaster her image everywhere!
I’ve had many casts in my years as a teenager. I have not had the chance to experience a plaster cast, but I’m sure once you’ve worn one, you have worn them all.
the smiles are plastered on your face
in the same way that the kisses are everywhere else and then some.
we were pretty plastered too,
everyone was but it was in the best way,
our art is the only thing that can handle us.
The w
i have a secret, and it is
on the closer side of the room.
it’s something i share
with my little cousin vivienne.
when we moved the couch against
the wall,
a few weeks ago,
she pushed a bit too hard
and there is a little nick in the plaster
of the wall.
(we didn’t tell anyone.)
plaster of Paris, slippery crack head in white, crusty skin, peeling sideways, flakes your finger tips, eye squinting bubbles dry. plasters wet and hangs like flypaper, silver and twisting, let it straighten out.
“Plaster faster!”, she said. So, I mastered the plaster in an effort to avoid disaster.
She refused to take the plaster mask off, for fear that her husband would realize that she was not beautiful. She denied every request to strip away the cover, blocking her husband’s curious fingers with flailing hands, shaking her head wildly from side to side but the string holding firm against the back of her temples.
Even when she slept, he could not take it off. It was as if, after all these years, the disguise had become a second layer of skin.
white dust falls from above filling my lungs and making it hard to breath. Its the signs of a crumpling past. I don’t move because I would rather choke than face the reality that all I knew is done and gone.
Indicative of that night’s events were shards of glass and pieces of broken pipes, forcefully torn off from the outside of the crumbling restaurant’s walls. No one was hurt, save for some bruises on Dean’s left arm when he shielded his face from falling debris during the incident. The unwelcome instigators have long since left and some townspeople have volunteered to clean up the place. Fresh plaster is being applied on various parts of the walls and the ceilings inside, as well. Annie locates Dean before he sees her, she immediately drops the broom she was holding and approaches him.
white falling from above, the signs of a crumbling past filling every bit of me and my being.
i was plastered against the wall with fear running through my bones. I wanted out, but you wouldn’t let me find the door. white dust fell form above like snow. it covered every part of me and tasted of chalk, plaster dust. this place, was no place for anyone to live it was crumbling to the ground all around us.” just let me go!” I screamed, but you wouldn’t.
Plaster reminds me of glue which reminds me of thise string balls I made which reminds me of balloons because you need those to make the string balls which reminds me of shivers because I shiver when balloons pop…
It’s the bandage across his face, the ceiling above him. It’s the faces across the hospital tv screen and the condition of the man who was driving the other car. He’s unharmed, mostly. But while he heals, all he can see and think about is plaster.
It’s the bandage across his face, the ceiling above him. It’s the faces across the hospital tv screen and the condition of the man who was driving the other car. He’s unharmed, mostly. But while he heals, all he can see and think about is plaster.
I will send you shivers through your hips
a terse touch and soft word plastered on your lips
I will send you letters written in your sighs
a gentle loving gesture in the valley of your thighs
Edgar Allen Poe closed up cats in walls, and serial killers seal concrete shells around their beautiful victims, pale men make mannequins with pretty lips and voices ringing out screams inside their plaster cages.
We scrape putty on our bodies, and there we are, statuesque, as though Earth has a history and the words do not need knowing because here, in porcelain glowing like patent, is proof that whatever happened, it was magnificent.
Sometimes I like to get plastered at parties. Not because I’m insecure or anything.. It’s just fun! And not every night either, or every week, or even every month. Just on occasion, as an escape, to let loose and not care about a thing.
If I plaster you with kindness will you believe my sincerity? I have long been over this competition between us that you started. It’s time to let go. It is time to move on. I sincerely wish for you to give up your hatred towards me, so that we can at least be
She just kept building it up higher and higher.
Walls made of plaster.
She used it to fix the broken walls,
And to block out the poison
Sunlight.
But the thing with plaster is
All it takes it one punch
For the world to come crumbling down.
Memories cascaded through her mind like the crumbling plaster falling from beneath the brittle, faded wallpaper she ran her hand over.
You say you love me
But your lies have always been
More than obvious
I tend to get wrapped up
In them anyway
And plaster on a fake smile
In the hopes of someday
Making them true…
Plaster is commonly looked at as something that you would use to fix an object with, mainly a wall. But you could also look at it has something to mend figuratively speaking like with in your personal life.
Work; that’s all it was. There was no happiness in his smile as he slapped spoonful after spoonful of that white goop onto the walls. He covered all the holes, and when it was done, it was beautiful and smooth. But this house that they were building would never be a home.
“Ow!” she hissed, ducking as she narrowly avoided a chunk of falling plaster. The ceiling was collapsing, and she couldn’t see the exit. Little drops of the material were raining down upon her, and every so often a large, jagged section would break off.
the old crumby ceiling that she loved to pick at and have then have them fall on her like snow and its get in her eyes god they were hiding but she liked keeping herself entertained by constantly picking at them she thought that maybe if she picked eniugh ll the ugly pieces would fall and it wouldnt look quite so shitty
When soft creates hard as is life.
When love creates pain.
When pain creates a barrier too strong to break through. In life we can love or we can plaster someones hearts with hardened and impenetrable matter. That matter is made up of memories, lost voyages, missed opportunities and forget displays of affection. I therefore define “Love Plastering” as heartbreak so difficult it would take a life time to break though.
The last thing he did — in fact it killed him — was to drink plaster. I suppose he’s rotted away now, but the plaster shape of his gastrointestinal tract remains.