sign up or log in for additional features. (It's free!)
oil is the reason the world is sorta screwed up right now… but i could focus on olive oil instead… or coconut oil perhaps – those are happy oils that I dream one day could save the world… then I wake up and realize I’m just hungry
By Mairah URL on 01.07.2012
How much better off the world would be without this. It’s a dependancey, an addiction. Why do we rely on something that is obviously hurting us and everything on this planet. We could get rid of it forever and find something else to use. But I don’t know if people are willing to let go, willing to sacrifice their money to help the good of all.
By Liz Varley on 01.07.2012
I could see the colors mixing, turning from a vibrat mix of colors to something duller, more realilistic. It soon painted the canvas, turning the white into a scene of red, small, precise, golden dots dancing. Soon a shape took place from them, the figure familiar.
It was her.
By Brielle URL on 01.07.2012
Oil was slick in the rain. Before he knew it, he was down, the bike half-crushing his left leg and knee. Helmet slammed, saw stars, prayed for safety, still trying to wrestle the machine out of the way of fellow travelers. Rain fell harder, now.
By Rebecca URL on 01.07.2012
I tried washing my face with oil. The people on acne.com lauded it’s ironic virtue. Success stories were enticing. I tried washing my face with oil. I did it wrong, or my skin is wrong, or the people who praised it were wrong. All I got was more oil on my face that needed to be washed off.
I spend a large portion of my shopping time worrying about oil. Hydrogenated oils, partially hydrogenated oils, you name it. I try to stick with olive oil or canola oil, but frankly, just the thought of ingesting any kind of oil makes me feel a bit… mechanical, somehow.
By Krud URL on 01.07.2012
This tastes good. My d@@k is scared of Arabic ladies
By Tog on 01.07.2012
The oil leaked through her veins
as if it were water,
as it it were blood.
The oil leaked through her teeth,
as if it were spit,
as if it were rust.
The oil leak through her bones,
as if it were muscle,
as if it were tissue.
The oil leaked through her mind,
as if it were dreams,
By Alex URL on 01.07.2012
The oil dripping from the pipe was a bright, bright silver. Not golden brown nor pitch black like muddy tar on a warm asphalt road. We took a bottle of it and brewed it in the bellies of our truck, and the truck ran for months without needing a refill.
Everyone wanted some of this miracle oil, but we didn’t know how it had happened. A fluke in the system or some mishap of nature. But all the same, people wanted it. And they wanted it fast.
By Belinda Roddie URL on 01.07.2012
slick it up with oil, soak it down with water. no mixture, really… just two liquids floating side to side.
By SJP on 01.07.2012
the dark, slippery substance ran down her legs, over her shoes, and joined the dead forms floating far down, down, down below her in the pit, the same pit she’d almost fallen into herself. But she couldn’t let that worry her now; she had to get out! Ignoring the oil, the filth on the ladder, she climbed, up, up, up all the way to the top of the portal, where the deep, dark, rank pit was nothing but a pinprick of black among muted shades of brown and coal.
By Matt on 01.07.2012
Two different worlds; when water meets oil.
Love burns brighter; when oil meets fire.
By alyssa rae on 01.07.2012
Grease. Spilled everywhere. On the counter, and on my clothes. I love olive oil, but if only it were cleaner. I’ll have to change now, and God knows if it will wash out.
By lindajoy on 01.07.2012
Slippery, slippery, says the snake.
Slide through, sticky and thick,
It was an oil-filled lake
The gleaming surface of the slick
Was enough to make the most
Coordinated of us
Afraid of doing a pre-swim boast.
By Julia M URL on 01.07.2012
Oil painted canvases surrounded the bare white walls around me. One man stood in the corner, scribbling with reckless abandon in his own sketchbook. He proceeded to rip the paper out of the spiraled book, crumpling it in his dirt covered palms.
By Laurie URL on 01.07.2012
“Don’t think, just keep going, oil the wheels and glide out there.”
“What are you talking about?” she was randomly stringing words together. Rambling. Where was her mind going in this long dream she was living?
By Meredyth URL on 01.07.2012
I am not an american. I guess oil has no deep meaning for me. I mean sure we use oil for energy. Or salad. or whatever.
I dont think about that much really.
By Marlene on 01.07.2012
You change your own car oil, even when he offers. He doesn’t understand that when things end, your car will still need to have its oil changed. Whether he’s there or not.
By lilldeh URL on 01.07.2012
He smelled of olive oil, an exotic substance never before part of our household and my parents were suspicious because they had known the oil before in dark kitchens surrounding the neighborhoods they couldn’t avoid on the way to the shop.
By nannan URL on 01.07.2012
She poured the oil in to the pan, watching as it slid to the outside of the pan and began to sizzle lightly. As the toaster popped and the news droned on she felt content in the sounds of a new day.
By Haley URL on 01.07.2012
Slowly, i walked through the dim lit street alone. The smell of oil still lingering in the air along with ashes. I felt stupid walking, why wasnt i running? So much had happened in the last 27 minutes and all i could think about was the heat of the flames againt me face, and his.
By Micaela URL on 01.07.2012
Oil is one of those words that southern people pronounce in a way that irritates my mom. They say “oll,” see. Don’t pronounce the i. It’s just one of those weird things. “Oil can.” Loosen up, Tin Man.
By Julia A. URL on 01.07.2012
You’re my olive oil
When you’re hot, I cook just right
Tasty, yummy fun
By Catherine McClarin URL on 01.07.2012
Rainboots: the only thing standing between me and a long walk with the only person that could understand and keep it a secret. I didn’t want the mud seeping through my shoes like so many other people had done to my mind. I wanted to keep everything in; this was no oil spill. She may not respond, but I knew she would listen, and that’s all I was asking.
By Marissa URL on 01.07.2012
The oil in my air stuck persistnently to my greasy hands. I haven’t had a chance to bathe in weeks… This chase seemed never ending. I stopped my light jog and rested in front of a puddle. I scooped up a handful of water and splashed it on my tired face. I glanced into the puddle, and noticed movement in the reflection behind me, they were here.
By Serena on 01.07.2012
The oil clung to my finger tips. It was almost impossible to get off; the harder I tried to brush it off, rinse it out- it just seemed to spread and thicken. It covered my arms and neck now, and it was quickly advancing down my torso and legs. I could feel it moving up my ears and around my face, and I began to dread what would happen once it reached my mouth and nose. I was fighting a losing battle as I became quickly immersed in the slippery black goo. ‘What a lovely way to die,’ you had hazily thought just as a rubber gloved hand reached through the darkness and yanked you out.
By Taylor K URL on 01.07.2012
as you lie next to me plain with your beautiful eyes i realize momentarily that we’re not apart. our toes look for warmth from each other, our legs mingle like flirty twenty-somethings smiling and unafraid to get caught up in the music, our chests barely separate cry out for God to make them but one under the sheets, and as i close my eyes i seem to feel the oil from your skin seeping into mine, becoming me, becoming what i’ve wished for.
i only hope that someday we will kiss like they do in black and white movies, where there initial embrace is almost more wonderful than the actual kiss, where each chance at such an embrace is one to be cherished, where when it’s finally time for the kiss all the emotion of the moment, thoughts of all previous kisses, and love for the other goes into creating a kiss so forceful, so powerful, and so beautiful that you can’t help but wish to be kissed in such a way. Even if your lips are bruised and sore after such a kiss, you can’t help but want it anyway.
By C. Ritchie URL on 01.07.2012
I used to think that oil was something to put on the body, to lubricate the skin, but never in the body, where it would build fat. Today I’m told that put lots of oil in the body, to lubricate all parts, and keep it off the skin where it tends to clog pores. I wonder what ‘they’ will be telling me tomorrow.
By SusanA URL on 01.07.2012
Water and oil are like the sun and the moon. They can never be together, not for long. It’s a sad idea, and interesting concept. It’s a fact we all know about. It’s strange.
By Brianna URL on 01.07.2012
the bones and minds of millions of crushed dinosaurs, settled beneath the earth. the world is our pie, we stick our fingers in it to get to the gooey filling, spoiling and destroying a beautiful and layered crust, spilling it over, making rainbow puddles.
By MJ on 01.07.2012
Smooth and slippery, rub it all over my aching body, dig deep into my tissues, slide gently over my curves, let me feel your fingers and palms slippery against me, covered with oil. Fragrance the oil with lavender and rosemary, fill our senses with the smooth friction of your hands on my body, the fragrances filling our minds. Not too much oil, just enough, moisturize my skin, my scalp, soothe me, relax me, entice me for more…….
By Julie URL on 01.07.2012
Liquid gold. Midas’s touch under the earth, bubbling up. Through silver pipes into hollow tanks. Burned, consumed and the family packs their lunch and unfolds their checkered blanket, car parked.
By Imogen on 01.07.2012
It was like when oil is dropped into water – it falls apart and separates and can’t be joined. It’s a part of, and apart from water; that was like us. No matter how much I wanted to be a part of you, no matter how far I would be into you, into what we had, you always kept me apart, and eventually I began to break.
By Michelle O'Connor URL on 01.07.2012
it used to be dinosaurs. if only the mighty t-rex knew he’d end up as power for our cars. oil is black.
By chasse on 01.07.2012
The oil, oddly enough, is what kept them together. Such a simple material item is all it took. And yet as simple it was, it was the most complicated, greedy thing that could ever exist. But when he quit his job at the oil refinery, she gave up. She could not stand it anymore. The fine, black liquid meant everything to her, and meant more than her man… And she realized that it was not the man, but it was the supply that defined the man.
By numbus URL on 01.07.2012
slippery and slick. a multitude of types, food oil to oil that helped the tin man from being rusty.
By mimi on 01.07.2012
slickery, dickery dock the mouse ran up the —-, the clock struck one, and down he come, hickory, dickory dock…
By monica URL on 01.07.2012
When I was little, I loved the Popeye cartoons, and I loved spinach because of it. Every time I ate spinach I’d make a muscle with my arm, like Popeye, and I’d ask my father to feel it to see if it had grown. He always made a big deal out of it and told me it DEFINITELY had. -And I believed him every time :)
By Noisy Quiet URL on 01.07.2012
during the icy, windy days of the winter, I depend on the help of coconut oil to heal these chapped lips.
By t URL on 01.07.2012
“Don’t even get me started on our dependence on foreign oil!” Becka’s grandfather boomed. He was a very commanding speaker and all the guests at the dining room table were staring at him. It had been a very tense dinner party.
Becka was seated directly at her grandfather’s elbow. She had been attending these meetings of the mind since she was twelve years old, in the hopes that it would inspire her to a life in politics. It had, although not with the affiliation her grandfather would have preferred.
“Grandpa, let’s don’t. Let me refill your drink for you.” She took his empty rocks glass into the other room. She stood in front of a full bar, stocked with some of the most expensive liquor bottles money could buy. Two small ice cubes, three shots-worth of 50-year old single-malt scotch was her grandfather’s drink of choice.
By wretsky URL on 01.07.2012
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.