Are you run ragged, are you going through a crisis? I think it’s all just an illusion, a quarry we cannot take —
Are you actually going through an emotional crisis or is this just another farce, another mask to tell the world it’ll be okay.
Who knows what tomorrow brings, but a ragged life it might be — we shall never be able to tell beneath the hiding illusions we bring out to play. Cave canem.
It’s not that bad.
Yes it is.
It’s all messy. Nasty.
Ragged.
Edgy used to be cool.
Not any more.
Just.
Ragged.
James D'Souza
ragged edges haunt my life. jagged, ragged unfinished pieces. Honing them down now ’til the painful becomes joy and ease and Love and Light.
ragged pieces all one.
Carol
Annie sat on the subway starring down at the ragged t-shirt she had just gotten back from her now ex boyfriend. The break-up hadn’t been particularly hard, at least not until she got her things back from his apartment. The worse thing was the t-shirt. She left his art apartment with a small box and the t-shirt and promptly got on the train with no idea where she was going. The t-shirt was a really old piece of fabric, she had it since before she met him but once they were together the t-shirt some how came to represent their relationship together.
Tori Gore
She felt ragged. The last 24 hours were sureal. How would she ever come to terms with losing her puppy like that. Who would have thought that the motorcylce wouldn’t have noticed the lead wrapped around his read wheel for 2 miles. She could still see Fido’s face as he was tugged sharply from his fur lined designer holdall. She knew she should have got a designer lead.
ragged t shirt
dog
hair
ends
splits
old dolls
pillow
blanket
lovable
mine
aarthi
curtains hanging about my face,
swooping downward from slanted
brows. this is the last bit of
light i’ll get before I trudge
into a coffin hoping to
be reborn into
renaissance.
Her heart was ragged; it had been torn, it was worn, it was frayed around the edges. It had broken countless times, and she had only managed to patch it up occasionally, and sometimes there were more tourniquets than stitches. Now the stitches seemed to be loosening, to be coming undone, despite her nimble fingers, and she didn’t know what to do…
There was a ragged dame
‘Neath a ragged hat
She wore a ragged dress
And held a ragged cat
She had a ragged smile
She had a ragged laugh
And every time we passed her
We wished she’d had a bath.
the mans shirt was terribly ragged all over. It was ragged because a rich person tried killing him because he was a hobo. Kind of like Hitler. He killed the jews because he didnt like them. Rich people didnt like ragged people.
Ashley
alone pitiful without character bereft lonely sensitive
At the moment life is running me ragged. Little things loom large and knock me off balance and then along comes something really big and I am knocked sideways. Obviously what is needed is more stability – not solid hips so that you stand firm. I can do without those – just mental solidarity.
His ragged breathing in my ear, I gasp great sobs and he laughs. I take his shoulders, push him off me, lay him on his side. His laughter has turned to vague gurgling now, but his smile is still as brilliant.
“To die laughing -” he rasps, “… to die in the arms of someone I love… isn’t that the best I could hope for?”
Andora
How would you describe your life, she asked.
Ragged, in tatters. That was my life. The visible evidence was manifested in my clothing. But the truth was in my eyes. I couldly hold my head up. I felt like I’d been traveling through a mess of barb wire, constantly moving inch by inch and for some reason not bleeding out; that would have been desirable in the condition I was in: death.
Dawvid06
these ragged edges of my dress flap in the wind and that’s where you tore me, right down the middle and along my new dress, the one i bought for you, the one i bought to make you notice me. now my smiles are jagged and cliffs are looking friendly. where is ireland? i think i want to go there and commiserate with jane austen and jane eyre and all the janes who lost love like me. where is the sun? i think i’ll follow it.
Meghan
Her breath was ragged, she’d ran as far she could, her lungs begging for air, her legs refusing to move anymore. Now, backed against the wall she watched him raise his arms up to either side of her, pinning her and sealing her lamentful fate.
“H-how do you know I’m not just like you only trying to hold a disguise?” She stuttered.
He smirked, leaning in closer to her, show his teeth in his shark-like grin. “You’re most definitely human. The blood rushing to your face, the frightened stutter in your voice…” He smirked. “I’ve not seen a human in long time…”
Exhausted. Running on empty. Wishing I had more to give. Wiped.
Lisa Bergren
As the snow fell harder the engine of car died with one last ragged breath– a tired spurt of dead oil and gasoline. The smell mingled with the fresh snow on the ground and I looked out through the windshield.
christine
He wore a ragged pair of jeans as he searched the corners and cracks of the streets looking for and spare change anyone may have dropped.
Caitlin
The ragged old woman stood there in the hallway, unknowning of what there was to come at the end of it. Opening the door, she peers inside and to her disbelief sees something comprehensible. It was an eight legged monster, bigger than anything that she’s seen before. This monster was no spider though; however, it moved around like one, but had the essence of man.
William Mank
the ragged thing was wet and hot. you couldn’t know where it came from. you couldn’t know its origins. by touching it you could feel a certain feeling, comforting maybe, somewhere, somehow, you couldn’t know why.
feelitnow
Ok, does this say ragged as is somebody just got their shit rocked in a fight and they looked ragged and torn. Or maybe it says ragged as in somebody told some coke and ragged all night. I don’t know. Maybe I should work on my vocabulary.
Cole Jensen
What to do, the door is slightly ajar and I know he is going to be back any minute
and now I have to figure out how to disguise the ragged tear in the carpet that
my heel made, way to go Mandy here you are for a interview and you ruin the
employers European carpet.
Linda Berryman
It was the proverbial dark and stormy night – she had dressed to kill but the look was somewhat different when she arrived – ragged witch of the west best summed it up!
Wendy Greenberg
a ragged shawl … but it’s my precious. it has travelled to so many places with me … it’s not branded, neither was it expensive. in fact it was a gift, but it has such an important place in my memories…
Sharp edge of a knife that causes the harsh breathing as death approaches to take the failing life away to the world below.
Shannon Mellicker
And then he said; “let them all lay down in the ragged boneyard of the soul”. What did that mean? Who knows. They wrestled him to the ground and tore the gun from his hand.
JoAnn Richi
Ragged like the doll, tramp’s pants, my fingernails, the ship’s sail after the storm. Or time. Ragged time could be exhaustion. Tired time. Sleepy time.
Seabrook
the ragged dog on the street drips water. Head down, tail down, ignored by crowdds of people as they push and shove through rain-soaked streets. He turns a corner and is gone.
Camden Luxford
The edges of the pages were quite ragged. The book’s smell hinted that it had been through many centuries in its time. Its pages were yellowed with age, its cover hardback and leathery.
My cousin once had a screen name that featured the word ragged. I never hear people using it otherwise. Perhaps it is a word that should be brought back, kind of like the high five. That’s all I really have to say about ragged. A word that should be used more often.
I usually feel ragged and run down days before I’m about to get sick.
fd
Ragged edges of worn-ragged hearts. Broken to pieces, smashed, shattered. And I can’t pick them all up, can’t masterpiece them back together. They are on the ground, in a heap, indistinguishable from one another and ragged, oh so ragged…
Lauve
once there was a ragged young woman who wore a ragged a dress, her hair was ragged and her teeth were falling out…she used to be the prettiest maiden in all the land, until the day the plague came and she got the 1st rat bite
Eric Quinn
My ragged cuticles mock me. I can’t help but pick at them. It’s how I deal with stress. Imagine what they are going to look like by March. Ha. I’ll have bloody ragged fingers to greet everyone with!
Sheila Mo
I feel raged on some times like when my sis or bro srat telling on me for no reason whatso ever. i hate beeing raged on by ur own kind. Am i going to be raged on for using texting launguage in this thing.
Ben
I usually feel ragged and run down days before I’m about to get sick.
There are moments I remember only for the way the music made me feel through headphones as I walked those blocks to work every morning. Grace Potter is her own ragged company, Dolly Parton whining “why’d you come in here looking like that” and Elvis, always Elvis, because we just can’t go on together with suspicious minds.
frayed and falling apart
pieces of my heart
holding on by threads
shreds of what it used to be
brandie
a rag is what i use to clean the dishes. i dont like cleanign dishes. it sucks. because you have to clean all that whatever it is- crap out of the sick and its gross. you dont know what it is, you just know it looks gross. why do we clean dishes? it makes no sense.
Are you run ragged, are you going through a crisis? I think it’s all just an illusion, a quarry we cannot take —
Are you actually going through an emotional crisis or is this just another farce, another mask to tell the world it’ll be okay.
Who knows what tomorrow brings, but a ragged life it might be — we shall never be able to tell beneath the hiding illusions we bring out to play. Cave canem.
It’s not that bad.
Yes it is.
It’s all messy. Nasty.
Ragged.
Edgy used to be cool.
Not any more.
Just.
Ragged.
ragged edges haunt my life. jagged, ragged unfinished pieces. Honing them down now ’til the painful becomes joy and ease and Love and Light.
ragged pieces all one.
Annie sat on the subway starring down at the ragged t-shirt she had just gotten back from her now ex boyfriend. The break-up hadn’t been particularly hard, at least not until she got her things back from his apartment. The worse thing was the t-shirt. She left his art apartment with a small box and the t-shirt and promptly got on the train with no idea where she was going. The t-shirt was a really old piece of fabric, she had it since before she met him but once they were together the t-shirt some how came to represent their relationship together.
She felt ragged. The last 24 hours were sureal. How would she ever come to terms with losing her puppy like that. Who would have thought that the motorcylce wouldn’t have noticed the lead wrapped around his read wheel for 2 miles. She could still see Fido’s face as he was tugged sharply from his fur lined designer holdall. She knew she should have got a designer lead.
ragged t shirt
dog
hair
ends
splits
old dolls
pillow
blanket
lovable
mine
curtains hanging about my face,
swooping downward from slanted
brows. this is the last bit of
light i’ll get before I trudge
into a coffin hoping to
be reborn into
renaissance.
Her heart was ragged; it had been torn, it was worn, it was frayed around the edges. It had broken countless times, and she had only managed to patch it up occasionally, and sometimes there were more tourniquets than stitches. Now the stitches seemed to be loosening, to be coming undone, despite her nimble fingers, and she didn’t know what to do…
There was a ragged dame
‘Neath a ragged hat
She wore a ragged dress
And held a ragged cat
She had a ragged smile
She had a ragged laugh
And every time we passed her
We wished she’d had a bath.
the mans shirt was terribly ragged all over. It was ragged because a rich person tried killing him because he was a hobo. Kind of like Hitler. He killed the jews because he didnt like them. Rich people didnt like ragged people.
alone pitiful without character bereft lonely sensitive
At the moment life is running me ragged. Little things loom large and knock me off balance and then along comes something really big and I am knocked sideways. Obviously what is needed is more stability – not solid hips so that you stand firm. I can do without those – just mental solidarity.
His ragged breathing in my ear, I gasp great sobs and he laughs. I take his shoulders, push him off me, lay him on his side. His laughter has turned to vague gurgling now, but his smile is still as brilliant.
“To die laughing -” he rasps, “… to die in the arms of someone I love… isn’t that the best I could hope for?”
How would you describe your life, she asked.
Ragged, in tatters. That was my life. The visible evidence was manifested in my clothing. But the truth was in my eyes. I couldly hold my head up. I felt like I’d been traveling through a mess of barb wire, constantly moving inch by inch and for some reason not bleeding out; that would have been desirable in the condition I was in: death.
these ragged edges of my dress flap in the wind and that’s where you tore me, right down the middle and along my new dress, the one i bought for you, the one i bought to make you notice me. now my smiles are jagged and cliffs are looking friendly. where is ireland? i think i want to go there and commiserate with jane austen and jane eyre and all the janes who lost love like me. where is the sun? i think i’ll follow it.
Her breath was ragged, she’d ran as far she could, her lungs begging for air, her legs refusing to move anymore. Now, backed against the wall she watched him raise his arms up to either side of her, pinning her and sealing her lamentful fate.
“H-how do you know I’m not just like you only trying to hold a disguise?” She stuttered.
He smirked, leaning in closer to her, show his teeth in his shark-like grin. “You’re most definitely human. The blood rushing to your face, the frightened stutter in your voice…” He smirked. “I’ve not seen a human in long time…”
Exhausted. Running on empty. Wishing I had more to give. Wiped.
As the snow fell harder the engine of car died with one last ragged breath– a tired spurt of dead oil and gasoline. The smell mingled with the fresh snow on the ground and I looked out through the windshield.
He wore a ragged pair of jeans as he searched the corners and cracks of the streets looking for and spare change anyone may have dropped.
The ragged old woman stood there in the hallway, unknowning of what there was to come at the end of it. Opening the door, she peers inside and to her disbelief sees something comprehensible. It was an eight legged monster, bigger than anything that she’s seen before. This monster was no spider though; however, it moved around like one, but had the essence of man.
the ragged thing was wet and hot. you couldn’t know where it came from. you couldn’t know its origins. by touching it you could feel a certain feeling, comforting maybe, somewhere, somehow, you couldn’t know why.
Ok, does this say ragged as is somebody just got their shit rocked in a fight and they looked ragged and torn. Or maybe it says ragged as in somebody told some coke and ragged all night. I don’t know. Maybe I should work on my vocabulary.
What to do, the door is slightly ajar and I know he is going to be back any minute
and now I have to figure out how to disguise the ragged tear in the carpet that
my heel made, way to go Mandy here you are for a interview and you ruin the
employers European carpet.
It was the proverbial dark and stormy night – she had dressed to kill but the look was somewhat different when she arrived – ragged witch of the west best summed it up!
a ragged shawl … but it’s my precious. it has travelled to so many places with me … it’s not branded, neither was it expensive. in fact it was a gift, but it has such an important place in my memories…
Sharp edge of a knife that causes the harsh breathing as death approaches to take the failing life away to the world below.
And then he said; “let them all lay down in the ragged boneyard of the soul”. What did that mean? Who knows. They wrestled him to the ground and tore the gun from his hand.
Ragged like the doll, tramp’s pants, my fingernails, the ship’s sail after the storm. Or time. Ragged time could be exhaustion. Tired time. Sleepy time.
the ragged dog on the street drips water. Head down, tail down, ignored by crowdds of people as they push and shove through rain-soaked streets. He turns a corner and is gone.
The edges of the pages were quite ragged. The book’s smell hinted that it had been through many centuries in its time. Its pages were yellowed with age, its cover hardback and leathery.
My cousin once had a screen name that featured the word ragged. I never hear people using it otherwise. Perhaps it is a word that should be brought back, kind of like the high five. That’s all I really have to say about ragged. A word that should be used more often.
I usually feel ragged and run down days before I’m about to get sick.
Ragged edges of worn-ragged hearts. Broken to pieces, smashed, shattered. And I can’t pick them all up, can’t masterpiece them back together. They are on the ground, in a heap, indistinguishable from one another and ragged, oh so ragged…
once there was a ragged young woman who wore a ragged a dress, her hair was ragged and her teeth were falling out…she used to be the prettiest maiden in all the land, until the day the plague came and she got the 1st rat bite
My ragged cuticles mock me. I can’t help but pick at them. It’s how I deal with stress. Imagine what they are going to look like by March. Ha. I’ll have bloody ragged fingers to greet everyone with!
I feel raged on some times like when my sis or bro srat telling on me for no reason whatso ever. i hate beeing raged on by ur own kind. Am i going to be raged on for using texting launguage in this thing.
I usually feel ragged and run down days before I’m about to get sick.
There are moments I remember only for the way the music made me feel through headphones as I walked those blocks to work every morning. Grace Potter is her own ragged company, Dolly Parton whining “why’d you come in here looking like that” and Elvis, always Elvis, because we just can’t go on together with suspicious minds.
frayed and falling apart
pieces of my heart
holding on by threads
shreds of what it used to be
a rag is what i use to clean the dishes. i dont like cleanign dishes. it sucks. because you have to clean all that whatever it is- crap out of the sick and its gross. you dont know what it is, you just know it looks gross. why do we clean dishes? it makes no sense.