intermingle, sing a jingle, eat some pringles.
there are certain dynamics to a group.
you’ll make it to the top if you follow the right route.
the flock is nothing but a game.
molly
Within the confines of his miniscule world, there is no place for anyone else but him and her. He lives inside this snowglobe mentality, where shards of secrets coat the floorboards and the crystal finery.
The whole house is a sham, he’s come to accept this; the celebrations more so. Oh, but what he wouldn’t give the vultures just to hold her–even at arms length. And now that she’s here, sipping his bootleg trade and resting lithely on his chaise, he finds himself failing to give a damn about all the commotion downstairs, where the revelry is thickest. The flock matters little to him–only his wayward darling and their starcrossed romance exists in his world at the moment.
Lying on the bed,thinking about days activities. I just couldn’t sleep and thats when I recollected the age old concept of imagining sheep in a flock and counting them.
RUCHITA
The first time she heard one of her aids refer to the religious masses who now followed her as a ‘flock,’ she recoiled in horror. She spent much of her life as a teacher trying to guide minds to independent thinking. Now, in a matter of days, she’d inspired a fleet full of sheep.
I see geese on the pond in Pennsylvania. Ten, twenty, thirty of them. Steeping their long necks in the cool water, coming up again with a shock of green and brown feathers; shaking their heads no to any other kind of life. As should I.
nyla
There was a large flock of geese flying high above my head. I watched as one little bird fell behind , trying to keep up with his friends.
That’s what I felt like.
Like everyone else was far ahead, and all I could do was watch them go while I struggled to keep going.
intermingle, sing a jingle, eat some pringles.
there are certain dynamics to a group.
you’ll make it to the top if you follow the right route.
the flock is nothing but a game.
Within the confines of his miniscule world, there is no place for anyone else but him and her. He lives inside this snowglobe mentality, where shards of secrets coat the floorboards and the crystal finery.
The whole house is a sham, he’s come to accept this; the celebrations more so. Oh, but what he wouldn’t give the vultures just to hold her–even at arms length. And now that she’s here, sipping his bootleg trade and resting lithely on his chaise, he finds himself failing to give a damn about all the commotion downstairs, where the revelry is thickest. The flock matters little to him–only his wayward darling and their starcrossed romance exists in his world at the moment.
Lying on the bed,thinking about days activities. I just couldn’t sleep and thats when I recollected the age old concept of imagining sheep in a flock and counting them.
The first time she heard one of her aids refer to the religious masses who now followed her as a ‘flock,’ she recoiled in horror. She spent much of her life as a teacher trying to guide minds to independent thinking. Now, in a matter of days, she’d inspired a fleet full of sheep.
I see geese on the pond in Pennsylvania. Ten, twenty, thirty of them. Steeping their long necks in the cool water, coming up again with a shock of green and brown feathers; shaking their heads no to any other kind of life. As should I.
There was a large flock of geese flying high above my head. I watched as one little bird fell behind , trying to keep up with his friends.
That’s what I felt like.
Like everyone else was far ahead, and all I could do was watch them go while I struggled to keep going.
The flock of geese flew over just as I placed the weight around his neck. I looked around and smiled; I’d gotten away with murder.
a flock of birds and sheep in the grass