Jumbled words. Can’t make sense of it. Need to crack the code. Check my pockets. Where are my keys?! I need to know the location of the Declaration of Independence!
Always lost. But when found, it is the best feeling. I love that I am able to decorate my key chain with items that allow me to express myself. I hope one day to have a pair of car keys. Nah.
I always lose my keys. I might lose everything. When these things are misplaced, I usually find them right away. I need to learn how to not stress out and these are a source of my stress. If I could just keep organized, I wouldn’t have a problem. One of these days I should start meditating.
“Keys me please!” Ricky shouted. It was another stupid saying he had coined. I don’t know where he came up with it, but I was too drunk, and too tired, to care. So I handed him the keys, circled the car to the passenger side, and sunk into the seat next to him. I had no idea this would be the last real decision I’d ever make, which is a little lame.
Those were just a game.
At the finale, there was waiting something else.
The goal he has put the highest stakes possible on. …Maybe that’s why it was all just a game to him.
He always came for more (no matter the change in interval), almost always left something behind and without a weak moment believed they’d not be able to unlock the answers.
This was his play; completely in his hands – but the little things sort of burned in those, it was just that. Really.
How “disconcerting”.
a/n: I’m not *sure* that one was a minute? I’m not sure it should be sent just like this either; but, that’s how I now wrote it… I guess..? keys got me
He dropped his keys at the end of the drive. There was a thin crust of snow and he did not know which direction to head in. If he went left, he would end up at the fire station. If he went right, he would go to school. His keys led nowhere. He was at a loss, dead-end, flat out. But he had his keys. They were not frozen under, only scattered across the dirty grey snow.
I dropped my keys in the lake. i lost my keys at school. i locked my keys in the car. i broke one of my keys to my house. i dropped one of my keys in the restroom.
Keys. Always lost. I swear i left them on the counter. Perhaps they do grow a pair of legs and walk away. Maybe that is their sense of humor, their way to communicate. Always hiding. Keys jingling is keys laughing. Silly lost little keys. Hidden doors unlocked and all.
I have lost may keys in my life . They are so small. But sometimes people have lost my key. and with that I mean the connection to me. A key symbolyses a connection and without it you might not continue you journey. So be safe
The janitor had many keys on his belt as he needed them to get into locked doors so he could clean the room. But the keys also had other forms of importance in other places…
She jingled her keys passive aggressively. “Let’s gooooo.” He rolled his eyes and went back to his conversation at the table. “Are you kidding me?” Stephen turned around. “No. I’m not kidding you. I’m in the middle of something. Will you give me like one GODDAMN second?”
It is a tool to open a door. The key to success, the key to open the door. It can open the future, the unknown, the impossible, that you have never seen before.
It also can be associated with a human relationship because if you don’t accept others, they won’t either. If people accept each other like when a key matches the door, then they can bring their relationships to the next level. in this sense, I think the “key” to be successful in every relationship is acceptance and trust.
If you don’t have them, others will not trust you back unless they have the right heart to love you unconditionally. Most people don’t.
Dangling in front of him attached to the tree branch, there they were. He had risked life and limb, and lost both, only to be taunted by his goal just out of reach. He didn’t know anatomy, but he knew it better than a student in a classroom: he could see the largest bone in his arm protruding from the sliced skin.
they give me freedom to open doors. they get lost sometimes. i laigh looking for them. i find many things while looking fr them. i can share them with others. they keep me safe. keys are interesting to look at and it is always intriguing to find their locks.
The keys on the piano are black and white. I mean, I think the black is consider keys. Maybe not. Because they’re 88 keys on a piano, right? I think that’s correct.
keys are significant objects. they open doors. if there was such an object as an universal key which could open any door in the world. that is one truly powerful object.
Last night I was convinced that I had left my keys in the outside of my front door. The sense of paranoia was so strong it stopped me from sleeping .Even after coming all the way down the stairs to check that my keys were inside of the door I was convinced that they weren’t, that my house was going to be broken into and my car stolen.
The brain is a strange organ, and the imagination very powerful – a huge escalation just from a set of keys.
The chain had dangled from his belt for as long as anyone could remember. No matter the weather, no matter the outfit, no matter the time, that jangling length of keys would be sitting there. Rumour had it he slept with them attached to his pyjamas, too. Nobody knew what they opened, and nobody had ever found out, because he guarded them as jealously as a dog with a bone.
important. you need keys to get into your home drive your locker. if you lock something up. you can use keys to unlock things usually something thats important. babies love to play with them. unlocker
written in a glimpse either eighty two or through the alphabet
neither rent within decay or splayed beneath question markers
Buoys of remembered minutes that can keep afloat the stolen image
The one that still sticks to the fingers as they move
Clanging chips of steel; metal pathways to new spaces or a way to keep things out. Keys are a necessary piece of life that keeps us together and apart from others….all at the same time.
The thing so many people ask for god to help them find… but so bizarrely, when they do find them, and attribute the find to god, they never consider why that god – whichever – pays no attention to the millions praying for food, water, delivery from catastrophe. It is the fundamental conundrum.
The keys to heaven, that’s the first thing that came to mind. Keys are a tool that opens doors to something that is yet unseen and unknown. They are the answer to some of life’s problems.
The piano keys blur before her eyes. She places her hands on them, straightens her back, plays the middle C, can’t remember anything. It’s been this way since her shaming performance in the high school orchestra. Parents and grandparents in the audience, her new beau too, Piano Concerto by Rachmaninoff, and she the soloist. Then she missed so many notes that she started crying and ran from the stage. People applauded. Was it mocking, or was it relief? Whatever it was, it was the last of her.
My keys aren’t keys anymore, they’re cards. Once, when I was six years old and visiting Italy, I found a mysterious old key, shaded dark with age, and vowed I’d find the door it opened. I kept it with me, and I still have it somewhere. So the key is on the opposite side of the world to its door now. I think I probably let it down.
well, that’s a shame.
you seem to have the keys to my heart.
even though we can’t be together
even though you’re an ocean away
something about you captivates me.
i wish you were here.
They were sitting by courtyard, talking about the piano that Alice had left her granddaughter.
An old upright, nearly as ancient as Alice herself. Nothing about it was desirable; the bench had disappeared long ago under quite suspicious circumstances; none of the damper pedals worked and the shelf thing that held the sheet music fell all the time, knocking the music all over the place. The keys were made of ivory, which upset a few of the neighbors who were interested in saving elephants; they hadn’t been for a long time, but then it became a cause and ivory keys were not the thing a piano should have. So there it was, sitting in the dead old woman’s home with nowhere to go and no one to play with. Except the little girl. She knew things about the piano that no one else did. She had spent many afternoons in the old woman’s company, listening to stories about the baby grand that had never really been as grand as its name. But there were other things about it. Secrets that nobody knew about. “Alice will get the piano,” the old lady said to her. “But I’ll give you the key. I’ll tell you where on the piano it fits. What’s inside will be yours, and belong to no one else. I promise you that.” So when the old woman died, the little girl waited until they’d taken her away. She slipped the key into her dress pocket, and made her way up the stair to where the piano sat, waiting silently to tell her its most amazing secret of all.
once there was a set of keys that had a mind of there own, they were used every day being put in and out of key holes getting rusted and wourn down, and they had enogh
I was in Sweden and their language had already started to change. What should have been “mina nycklar” (my keys) had already become “mina keys” as they started moving more toward English. Sad. It’s moved even closer to English now, with the influence of Americana.
Jumbled words. Can’t make sense of it. Need to crack the code. Check my pockets. Where are my keys?! I need to know the location of the Declaration of Independence!
Always lost. But when found, it is the best feeling. I love that I am able to decorate my key chain with items that allow me to express myself. I hope one day to have a pair of car keys. Nah.
i locked my keys in the car i call the police and they broke my car window AND DIDN’T EVEN PAY FOR IT!!
Lost my keys. How cliché, I know. But cliché or not, they’re gone. Must have fallen behind the dresser again. Nope.
Maybe Sharon took them by accident? Nope. She swears she has her own.
What the hell was I wearing yesterday. Where are my keys … where are my pants?
I always lose my keys. I might lose everything. When these things are misplaced, I usually find them right away. I need to learn how to not stress out and these are a source of my stress. If I could just keep organized, I wouldn’t have a problem. One of these days I should start meditating.
“Keys me please!” Ricky shouted. It was another stupid saying he had coined. I don’t know where he came up with it, but I was too drunk, and too tired, to care. So I handed him the keys, circled the car to the passenger side, and sunk into the seat next to him. I had no idea this would be the last real decision I’d ever make, which is a little lame.
Those were just a game.
At the finale, there was waiting something else.
The goal he has put the highest stakes possible on. …Maybe that’s why it was all just a game to him.
He always came for more (no matter the change in interval), almost always left something behind and without a weak moment believed they’d not be able to unlock the answers.
This was his play; completely in his hands – but the little things sort of burned in those, it was just that. Really.
How “disconcerting”.
a/n: I’m not *sure* that one was a minute? I’m not sure it should be sent just like this either; but, that’s how I now wrote it… I guess..? keys got me
He dropped his keys at the end of the drive. There was a thin crust of snow and he did not know which direction to head in. If he went left, he would end up at the fire station. If he went right, he would go to school. His keys led nowhere. He was at a loss, dead-end, flat out. But he had his keys. They were not frozen under, only scattered across the dirty grey snow.
I dropped my keys in the lake. i lost my keys at school. i locked my keys in the car. i broke one of my keys to my house. i dropped one of my keys in the restroom.
Keys. Always lost. I swear i left them on the counter. Perhaps they do grow a pair of legs and walk away. Maybe that is their sense of humor, their way to communicate. Always hiding. Keys jingling is keys laughing. Silly lost little keys. Hidden doors unlocked and all.
I have lost may keys in my life . They are so small. But sometimes people have lost my key. and with that I mean the connection to me. A key symbolyses a connection and without it you might not continue you journey. So be safe
The janitor had many keys on his belt as he needed them to get into locked doors so he could clean the room. But the keys also had other forms of importance in other places…
i had keys one day for my car they got stuck in the key hole and I had to drive around with my keys in my car every time I went to work.
She jingled her keys passive aggressively. “Let’s gooooo.” He rolled his eyes and went back to his conversation at the table. “Are you kidding me?” Stephen turned around. “No. I’m not kidding you. I’m in the middle of something. Will you give me like one GODDAMN second?”
It is a tool to open a door. The key to success, the key to open the door. It can open the future, the unknown, the impossible, that you have never seen before.
It also can be associated with a human relationship because if you don’t accept others, they won’t either. If people accept each other like when a key matches the door, then they can bring their relationships to the next level. in this sense, I think the “key” to be successful in every relationship is acceptance and trust.
If you don’t have them, others will not trust you back unless they have the right heart to love you unconditionally. Most people don’t.
thriving
rising
Dangling in front of him attached to the tree branch, there they were. He had risked life and limb, and lost both, only to be taunted by his goal just out of reach. He didn’t know anatomy, but he knew it better than a student in a classroom: he could see the largest bone in his arm protruding from the sliced skin.
they give me freedom to open doors. they get lost sometimes. i laigh looking for them. i find many things while looking fr them. i can share them with others. they keep me safe. keys are interesting to look at and it is always intriguing to find their locks.
The keys on the piano are black and white. I mean, I think the black is consider keys. Maybe not. Because they’re 88 keys on a piano, right? I think that’s correct.
keys are significant objects. they open doors. if there was such an object as an universal key which could open any door in the world. that is one truly powerful object.
Last night I was convinced that I had left my keys in the outside of my front door. The sense of paranoia was so strong it stopped me from sleeping .Even after coming all the way down the stairs to check that my keys were inside of the door I was convinced that they weren’t, that my house was going to be broken into and my car stolen.
The brain is a strange organ, and the imagination very powerful – a huge escalation just from a set of keys.
The chain had dangled from his belt for as long as anyone could remember. No matter the weather, no matter the outfit, no matter the time, that jangling length of keys would be sitting there. Rumour had it he slept with them attached to his pyjamas, too. Nobody knew what they opened, and nobody had ever found out, because he guarded them as jealously as a dog with a bone.
important. you need keys to get into your home drive your locker. if you lock something up. you can use keys to unlock things usually something thats important. babies love to play with them. unlocker
Keys can be many things. Objects, thoughts, perspectives, ideas, values….and they can unlock many things; mechanical, emotional, mental, spiritual.
Open your heart with keys of love.
written in a glimpse either eighty two or through the alphabet
neither rent within decay or splayed beneath question markers
Buoys of remembered minutes that can keep afloat the stolen image
The one that still sticks to the fingers as they move
You continue asking why I always leave my keys at home, knowing full well that the door will be locked when I get back there.
The answer couldn’t be any more simple; it gives me more time to spend with you.
The house was opened with a key.
Clanging chips of steel; metal pathways to new spaces or a way to keep things out. Keys are a necessary piece of life that keeps us together and apart from others….all at the same time.
The thing so many people ask for god to help them find… but so bizarrely, when they do find them, and attribute the find to god, they never consider why that god – whichever – pays no attention to the millions praying for food, water, delivery from catastrophe. It is the fundamental conundrum.
The keys to heaven, that’s the first thing that came to mind. Keys are a tool that opens doors to something that is yet unseen and unknown. They are the answer to some of life’s problems.
The piano keys blur before her eyes. She places her hands on them, straightens her back, plays the middle C, can’t remember anything. It’s been this way since her shaming performance in the high school orchestra. Parents and grandparents in the audience, her new beau too, Piano Concerto by Rachmaninoff, and she the soloist. Then she missed so many notes that she started crying and ran from the stage. People applauded. Was it mocking, or was it relief? Whatever it was, it was the last of her.
Today I lost my keys. They could not be found anywhere so I had to walk to work. I was exhausted when I got there so I could not think straight.
There is a piano in the far corner of the room.
And you wait, because you’re waiting for it to be played.
And it wasn’t for a very, very long time.
My keys aren’t keys anymore, they’re cards. Once, when I was six years old and visiting Italy, I found a mysterious old key, shaded dark with age, and vowed I’d find the door it opened. I kept it with me, and I still have it somewhere. So the key is on the opposite side of the world to its door now. I think I probably let it down.
well, that’s a shame.
you seem to have the keys to my heart.
even though we can’t be together
even though you’re an ocean away
something about you captivates me.
i wish you were here.
They were sitting by courtyard, talking about the piano that Alice had left her granddaughter.
An old upright, nearly as ancient as Alice herself. Nothing about it was desirable; the bench had disappeared long ago under quite suspicious circumstances; none of the damper pedals worked and the shelf thing that held the sheet music fell all the time, knocking the music all over the place. The keys were made of ivory, which upset a few of the neighbors who were interested in saving elephants; they hadn’t been for a long time, but then it became a cause and ivory keys were not the thing a piano should have. So there it was, sitting in the dead old woman’s home with nowhere to go and no one to play with. Except the little girl. She knew things about the piano that no one else did. She had spent many afternoons in the old woman’s company, listening to stories about the baby grand that had never really been as grand as its name. But there were other things about it. Secrets that nobody knew about. “Alice will get the piano,” the old lady said to her. “But I’ll give you the key. I’ll tell you where on the piano it fits. What’s inside will be yours, and belong to no one else. I promise you that.” So when the old woman died, the little girl waited until they’d taken her away. She slipped the key into her dress pocket, and made her way up the stair to where the piano sat, waiting silently to tell her its most amazing secret of all.
once there was a set of keys that had a mind of there own, they were used every day being put in and out of key holes getting rusted and wourn down, and they had enogh
I was in Sweden and their language had already started to change. What should have been “mina nycklar” (my keys) had already become “mina keys” as they started moving more toward English. Sad. It’s moved even closer to English now, with the influence of Americana.
“Did you bring your keys?”
I frowned. “Keys? I don’t have any keys. I’ve never had keys.”
Martin’s furrowed brow was dark and set, as if he were attempting to mimic me. “You didn’t get keys from the boss?”
“Nope.”
He sighed. “Whelp,” he said, crossing his arms. “Looks like we’re stuck in the cold for another hour.”
“Joy,” I muttered, staring helplessly through the window at the empty office.