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Space. Mein Raum. Ich wünsche ihn mir (fast) leer. So dass Raum für Neues da ist. Leere. Gestaltung. Ich kann selbst entscheiden. Noch einmal von vorne anfangen. Geht das aus dem Überfluss heraus? Ich würde gern noch einmal mit Nichts anfangen. Ganz allein entscheiden, was mir gut tut. Was der Welt gut tut.
By Eli URL on 11.26.2016
Stop. Is what I hollered at my sister, when I found her rummaging in my closet. I get so tired of her wearing my clothes. She should just go buy her own, but she doesn’t. I tell my mom about it all the time. My mom says “you need to share”. I disagree. I figure the best thing to do is to put a lock on my closet door. What if I loose the key and I can’t even get to my clothes. I feel so helpless, what am I to do? That is my space for my clothes, not hers!
By Kristin Weathers URL on 11.26.2016
Space: the final frontier. It is one that we will probably never fully conquer. We haven’t even conquered the oceans on our home planet and we’ve lived on it for hundreds of thousands of years. Sure, we’ve reached the ends of those oceans, those greatest depths, but we haven’t conquered them. We are in great danger even briefly visiting them. That will be the same fate for space I feel. We will never truly conquer that final frontier.
By Lee on 11.26.2016
Space is the final fronteir. It’s what we were told. Now we know better. Just the five of us, soon to be just four. There is a great nothing here, and we will soon join it. And I’m afraid it will have all been for nothing.
By Rushlight URL on 11.26.2016
The constellation room, as I entered it, practically lit up as soon as my shoes hit the carpet. It was beyond a miraculous spectacle. As I was escorted to a chair, I felt as if I were bathing in the vacuum of space itself. The temperature in the room was fitting as well: Chilly, lending itself to an aura of mystery and wonder as you stared up at the simulation of an ever expanding galaxy.
By Belinda Roddie URL on 11.26.2016
Don’t think. Just write. Yeah, right. Leave spaces? Good idea. Do it. To space. To Mars. To Pluto. To where? Don’t know. Can’t tell. I’m spacy. Food coma. On Thanksgiving. Gave thanks. Ate stuffing. Filled spaces.
By Joanna Bressler on 11.26.2016
That shit is pretty cool. This giant abyss. Never ending. Something we, as humans, will never completely understand.
By JayJay URL on 11.26.2016
I like PIANO
I’m jealous of rich folk homes
with shiny blue Grand
one of the reasons
I need a place with more SPACE
to play Yiruma
outer-space is crap
Mars is red dust storms and ice
Earth is superior
Earth, larger than Mars,
has supportive atmosphere,
red dust and ice too :-p
By ! Haiku-Man ! on 11.26.2016
I had to get out of there. I couldn’t breathe. It felt as though the walls were closing in on me. How could I have let things get this bad? Why hadn’t I stopped it. I could have done something. I should have done something. Now everyone was looking at me like I was supposed to know what to do next. Like I had already seen this scenario play out on my head a thousand times and was 10 steps ahead of the problem before if even arrived. Normally they’d be right. I always saw these things coming—they were always rearing their ugly heads at the very back of my mind, waiting to jump out and swallow me whole—but not this time. I was completely blindsided. I needed to catch my breath. I needed space to clear my head and think this through, but how could I in all this chaos. There no way they’d just let me leave, I’d have ten shadows following me around every turn. No. There would be no space for me, not now, not ever. I was trapped–a cornered animal in the wild.
By Tessa Wolfe on 11.26.2016
There is so much space in here. Looking left and right, there is nothing in sight.
I stand alone in what seems like a room void of time. No nothing in sight.
I pinch myself, hoping to wake up.
Unfortunately, nothing happens.
By DF URL on 11.26.2016
the space inbetween the stars I wonder about
the gape between my heart, I yearn to ponder in and out
easily repudiating that I’m human
with propsenity to desire all and everything surrounding my space
specious speculation deems a shopping cart empty of eggs
but full of herbivorous legs
a chicken lays an egg
while the plant behind it decomposes to dead
By Milad URL on 11.26.2016
I looked into my telescope, smiling up at the sky. I began to daydre
By Chile URL on 11.26.2016
There is a gaping hole inside of me. Ever since he left, there is a space within me that cannot be filled. Some days I am less hollow – when I laugh and smile, when I see something beautiful – but then suddenly there is an empty space again. I am still hollow. I cannot pretend anymore.
By hannah on 11.26.2016
I think it all began when he gave me the planet. The bloody planet.
“Here you go,” he says stupidly as he hands me one of his beloved space rings.
Did I mention that I am still wearing the same worn-out rings as earrings today?
By Lala Smith on 11.26.2016
There’s a chair that sits still in the kitchen. There are the precious, one-of-a-kind letters of the only autograph I had ever received from the royal Queen herself.
And then there is him, with his stupid and idiotic-looking space helmet and space gloves and spacesuit and – he is just so stupid!
But, alas, I do ever so wonder why my heart craves and burns with all the fire of ten thousand suns when he sends me one last goofy, hopeful grin as he boards that dangerous, all-new rocket?
By awesomesauce123 URL on 11.26.2016
break for it when amid those passionate moments where bones
turn into iron
morphs into sheets of netted chains
passionate drives irrationality
even if abstemious moments force tires to move when the emergency brakes are on
like John donne
you write away the soul until the lamp turns on in the darkest room.
Space to breathe, space to be. Head space clearing. Lost in space! More space needed to be free to be myself. Share this space with me?
By Diana URL on 11.27.2016
I am sad to have missed the previous stimulus “piano”, so will write two entries under space, one for each.
A creak, barely audible, breaks the buzzing silence. A soft intake of breath; a fluttering of pages; the creaking of a pedal. Then- the silence breaks, dissipating in barely a second. Melodies, rich and full, flicker through the air, filling all available spaces but also rising, lifting, pulling you higher, floating underneath like a caressing cloud.
Footsteps leaving, time stands still.
A creak, barely audible.
By EmmaChristobel URL on 11.27.2016
Picture stars closer than ever before, some larger than life, some you’ve never seen before revealing themselves in the distance.
Picture space, in all it’s glory.
With the space under the stairs, I filled with love and memories and monsters. How do you separate the good from the bad? It is not possible. But how would you know the one without the other. I could do without quite so many monsters, though.
By Rushlight URL on 11.27.2016
Siempre he pensado que el espacio nos permite llenarnos de nuevas perspectivas. Yo busco espacio para mí mismo porque al balancear mi vida interna siento que soy más relevante para las otras personas. No se trata de alejarse por completo, sino de comprender cómo nuestra vida interna puede alterar la vida de los demás.
By Rafael URL on 11.27.2016
She pushed her arms out forcefully, as if the air was invading on her personal space. “Stop, stop, stop.” She walked away forcefully. She truly looked bizarre, her head bent, her long swan-like neck curved as if avoiding a loud noise above her.
By Bridget Grace URL on 11.27.2016
what space is mine? In this life we have so many spaces we inhabit and claim blind ownership of but what truly can be ours. Who’s to say that we have claim to any space? Is my body my space or just a vessel I’m currently borrowing? What is space besides a construction by man to feel like he has domain over something.
By ana mai luckett on 11.27.2016
Space is way out there – it’s the only place I’ve ever been. I just don’t know how to leave it and go somewhere else. But maybe that’s just the way it’s supposed to be. But on the other hand it would be nice to try something different…
By JørgenF on 11.27.2016
One wonders what really exists between two things. Or two people, for that matter. There is this word that means: the distance between, the volume where there is nothing, around which all creation exists. When really between us is more than is inside of us. Maybe thousands of years. Maybe hundreds of whole lives lived like water forming into ice, wedging space in the bricks.
By mattlock URL on 11.27.2016
She looks far out, her milky soft cheek pressing against a cold, hard, clearly-cut-out shoulder and her burnt caramel hair cascading down her open position.
The shining night star is glaring into her eyes, filling her whole body up with compassion. It was just so… beautiful, the expansion and the possibilities that spread farther than she could have ever imagined. Something that could never have been pulled down by anything, anyone. It was so massive and expressive and vivid and just so, so free.
And, yet, here she is, being chained down by cool metal cuffs as he moves his head and soft, pink lips swirling around her hot body.
She, alas, closes her eyes and succumbs to the teasing pleasure. For that was life, right?
By KOOLness on 11.27.2016
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.