What are some good similes for discomfort?
Alright. Alright, I’ll offer it a shot, but I’m going to slip some metaphors in the mix. If you see one you want to update to a simile, try it – but I wager you see why I left it as a metaphor.
Some great similes for pain. I’m simply going to run with it. Some of these will be winceworthy, no doubt.
- His tooth sang out like a silent alarm – progressively growing in volume.
- His aggrieved balls grieved inwardly, stunned and shocked at the unexpected extent of her unforeseen kneed. That’s awful. Cancel that.
- ” My bra’s being a bitch today,” she observed, wincing thoughtfully like someone trying to come up with an apt descriptor for her pain, only using “like” or “as.”
You understand what? Neither 2 nor 3 qualify. This numbered list organization isn’t assisting. Let me just clear the mind and … let the discomfort similes come openly. Freely. Without number.
Also, those were too verbose, too. You didn’t ask total sentences! Just the comparisons, friend! Okay. Concentrate, annn-n-nd … loose
the pain was like a knife in the gut
the discomfort was like a knife in the ass
the discomfort was as a knife in the hand
Hm. Those were all complete sentences, bro. Low-caps and no-punct isn’t deceiving anybody! That last one’s sort of unclear, though: a knife in the hand. Like it! Like it. there were shooting discomforts like a knife in the hand as he fired his gun up a one last stand
Dang it, I simply draw at this tonight. Typically I’m pretty okay at the figures of speech. Possibly it’s the pain?
Hm. Possibly pain is not my muse. All I’m getting is dumb ones.
You understand what? I feel like I do not describe pain by comparison.
I think it’s possible it feels like a jokey, distancing component. Impacted and self-indulgently literary. I think with discomfort: immediacy. That’s what’s wanted.
But let’s go nuts just in case.
Feel free to give up reading anywhere along the way below, since folks, here comes an I don’t understand what kinda trip:
Discomfort tired into her skull with a yawn as she attempted to remember what she had actually done to deserve it. Something enjoyable. She busied her little hands up and down his clothes in an automated magic trick that worked every time – but left him tingling and rather the even worse for wear, recoiling in compassion with her poor head, other than for him it was little shooting stars, shooting sparking white heat, burning pains and sizzling flinch running up and down his inner acoustic network in waves like an incipient neurological condition. He overlooked it as they both said “YES” in a specific and rather forward manner. “DAMN!” she said as they each enthusiastically started and started. “OW!” he returned. “Are we sure this is the right time? Do you think we’re coming down with the covid?” they both queried in synchrony – however what the hell, they were 2 too far into it by then and somehow, it implied too much. As they got to work and frothed it approximately a ripping pitch, the discomfort was like hectic gnomes industrially working them each in joints, seamily working nerves and veins for brilliant semi-precious discomfort like ore, in colors they ‘d never ever seen before, nor quickly to forget. He either was being ridden by a stallion of pain or he was one – his every stumbling and haunching sinew whinnying and weeping out “neigh!” She on the other hand had a pounding in her head like she could not believe, offset by a comparable one somewhere else which was more like a burro or burrito than a “stallion of discomfort” truthfully, however she felt sure she might break it and come out on top – vwoop! Up and over she goes and on we go! Why were they both doing this? Clearly they were not well. Yet it appeared as if some unmentioned accord of esteem had been struck and reached in between them, like this grinding and teeth-gritting-towards-excruciating-joy-&&- release experience was some essential, whimsical and completely unjustified demonstration of mental durability and psychological determination, atcha & & back atcha – and it was by no methods clear who was who. It indicated they had what it requires to pull ludicrous, showoff sexual stunts for no reason – well, that was something. The selections and panoplies of pain between and through their signed up with kind( s) had reached the point where the discomfort was like a clown vehicle, disgorging its limitless and significantly unwelcome load of clowns cavorting in and all through the three-ring circus of their progressively, unnecessarily acrobatic coupling. What was incorrect with them !? They needed to be unhealthy. It seemed like working towards working itself out well. The pain they increasingly focused and shared was significantly like a child’s sore, loosening up tooth, interesting and seductive hurt you simply wish to poke with your brave tongue until