I brewed some beer for him and his friends. He watched me as he drank it and laughed. I didn’t notice but I had become a slave. A slave for him. A slave for his love. I couldn’t help it there was nothing I could do. Nowhere I could run. I was my own worst enemy. I had no idea what to do or how to do it without his love.
You used to scream at night. That was before the brew. People would tell them that it didn’t mean anything, there was nothing there, open your closet and see, don’t come to mommy’s room tonight, stop.
I wake up and get dressed, still bleary-eyed from the night. “Why do I even bother?” I think, as I check my phone for yet another barrage of text messages. I click it off and look in the mirror. Enough’s enough. It’s done.
she would always serve in one of those china cups. while one hand busy with pouring coffee she would side her hair strands with another. And that sight used to be my morning treat .
Sitting down, sipping a cup of brewed coffee, she thought of how unfathomable life has been. Everything in her mind: life, love, people, and lies. But what bothered her the most? Everything.
Brewed feelings I have today.
Brad came today morning to tell me that he’s leaving. I was hoping that would never happen.
He can go whenever he like and I
I have to stay here
Forever.
Sitting down, sipping a cup of brewed coffee, there she thought of how unfathomable life has been. Everything in her mind, life, love, people, and lies. What bothered her the most? Everything.
The audience was the usual gathering of fools. Driving here as they no doubt have driven many miles to plenty of places and yet, accomplish absolutely no task of worth. Making no merit or impression except for the build up of smog, smog brewed by their bumbling baffoonish choices of gas guzzlers. Well… at least I make money off these morons!
The young girl cried on and on, until her eyes could not even muster up anymore energy to pour tears out. But still, she continued yelling and screaming. That was when the elderly man came, with a freshly brewed hot chocolate in his hands. He walked up to the young girl, and handed it to her hoping it would comfort her.
she loves brewed coffee in the mornings. she loves the way the steam rises up and hits the morning sunrise, and she loves the burn of the first sip because it makes her feel awake and alive.
My dad puttered around the kitchen fixing toast, getting out the jam, feeding the dog I smiled giving him a big hug and handing him a mug of coffee. I brushed back his grey bangs, he was getting old
If there is one drink I can never leave without, well, of course, aside from water, it’s brewed coffee. My daily dose? Four to five cups a day. No, not just in the morning. Any time of the day, no matter how how it is in the afternoon. At night? Yes. Even before I sleep.
And all that nothingness that brewed, that smog of nothingness, cleared away with a swipe of the wind, and I was left here without a skin, raw, as nothing continued to happen, on into the distance.
Charlotte brewed beer, hunted deer, and kissed girls ’cause she was queer. She ate beef, smoked dry leaf, and ran the place like an Indian chief. She was sassy, she was classy, she had a voice that was trumpet-brassy. Now she’s older, growing colder, but still strong and tough as a boulder.
All through the office, people were running around like headless chickens, screaming into telephones. Jim sat in the kitchen, alone, and stared at the pot as the coffee brewed. Ted saw him through the window as he passed, and stuck his head in the door. “Should you be taking a break now? We could go under if this gets out of control!” Jim looked up at him, and smiled. “I just became a grandfather. All else is secondary!”
this is too fast. i cannot even organize my thought when i wrote about it. it is very tricky, i have to admit . and it’s too short too be expressive. ok, so i can still write more and more as I wanted, shit!
He brewed his own beer. He brewed his soul into his beer. His soul that was searching for something or someone. His soul transported to shops and homes hoping to find what he was looking for.
Before she went to bed each night, she would be sure to brew herself a hot, steaming cup of caffeinated coffee. It was a must. With it, she could descend into hours of self-induced insomnia and relish the night sky for its many secret nudges and half obscured lights.
She took a sprinkle of sage and tossed it in the cauldron. “There,” she said, “it is almost finished.” As the concoction bubbled slowly, she thought about all that had led up to this point. She thought about her life and the things she had ben through and how she just wanted it all to end. When it was finished brewing, she dipped a cup into the slimy liquid. She raised it to her lips and drank every last drop. Minutes later, she collapsed to the floor, a smile gracing her lips.
Omg I lobe pizza so much I just got out of the resultant earls and I had a ceased salad and pizza I’m going to my brother hockey tournament and it’s going to take 2 hours to drive! Ew I don’t want to drive that long I’m drinking oh! My phone is at 20 percent crap! I better charge it before it dies Hasent it been more than 60 seconds? I thought it would be over by now that’s weird now my mom is asking me how my food was ha I think she feels like I’m being rude because im not looking at her and im trying to focus on this I think this is a trick to see how long you’ll write before you relize that it won’t stop you in 60 seconds hahah
full glass, filled with gold. i settle my legs into the glass, gently lower my belly and my hips, my boobs touch the liquid. deeper still i persist, my neck gets wet, foam gets in my hair. i close my eyes as they go under. i sink deeper and minute bubbles rise around the edges of the pint.
stoutly brewed, not overdone. i settle my legs into the glass, gently lower my belly and my hips, my boobs touch the liquid. deeper still i persist, my neck gets wet, foam gets in my hair. i close my eyes as they go under. i sink deeper and minute bubbles rise around the edges of the pint.
The cauldron simmered over the fire, filled with an oily substance that hardly moved when the room shook. It did that quite a bit, these days. The earth would crack open, sometimes, and fire would spit out of the rifts. The witch of the wood didn’t mind these occurrences, though; she continued and brewed and protected the cauldron at all costs from the beast of the earth.
He watched as the woman dumped the sanguine vial into the golden depths contained in the vat. Eyes wide and expression disgusted, he met her eyes with a simple question “Why?”
he caught me – with me hands all red – and my body all blushed – deep in the brew of it – i was stewed in it – thats what can happen when you fool with a fooler in disguise as a master… you get brewed right along with the brew
He couldn’t believe it. She
was gone and he
was left alone with one thought
brewing inside of him:
He must get her back.
He must go after her.
He must-
I brewed some beer for him and his friends. He watched me as he drank it and laughed. I didn’t notice but I had become a slave. A slave for him. A slave for his love. I couldn’t help it there was nothing I could do. Nowhere I could run. I was my own worst enemy. I had no idea what to do or how to do it without his love.
You used to scream at night. That was before the brew. People would tell them that it didn’t mean anything, there was nothing there, open your closet and see, don’t come to mommy’s room tonight, stop.
I wake up and get dressed, still bleary-eyed from the night. “Why do I even bother?” I think, as I check my phone for yet another barrage of text messages. I click it off and look in the mirror. Enough’s enough. It’s done.
The coffee brewed much slower than usual. A saddened man sat by the window. His life had nearly shattered the day his wife past.
The other night I was at a pub where they brewed their own beer. I tried it and found that it was close to an Irish ale I had tried before.
she would always serve in one of those china cups. while one hand busy with pouring coffee she would side her hair strands with another. And that sight used to be my morning treat .
Sitting down, sipping a cup of brewed coffee, she thought of how unfathomable life has been. Everything in her mind: life, love, people, and lies. But what bothered her the most? Everything.
She brewed her tea for three minutes, and then held the cup in her hand feeling it’s warmth and smelling the herbs as they permeated into the air.
Brewed feelings I have today.
Brad came today morning to tell me that he’s leaving. I was hoping that would never happen.
He can go whenever he like and I
I have to stay here
Forever.
Sitting down, sipping a cup of brewed coffee, there she thought of how unfathomable life has been. Everything in her mind, life, love, people, and lies. What bothered her the most? Everything.
The audience was the usual gathering of fools. Driving here as they no doubt have driven many miles to plenty of places and yet, accomplish absolutely no task of worth. Making no merit or impression except for the build up of smog, smog brewed by their bumbling baffoonish choices of gas guzzlers. Well… at least I make money off these morons!
-C.Y. Nikol
The young girl cried on and on, until her eyes could not even muster up anymore energy to pour tears out. But still, she continued yelling and screaming. That was when the elderly man came, with a freshly brewed hot chocolate in his hands. He walked up to the young girl, and handed it to her hoping it would comfort her.
As I brewed the coffee, the strong, bitter, nutty aromas wafted around the kitchen; reminded me of our mornings together.
she loves brewed coffee in the mornings. she loves the way the steam rises up and hits the morning sunrise, and she loves the burn of the first sip because it makes her feel awake and alive.
My dad puttered around the kitchen fixing toast, getting out the jam, feeding the dog I smiled giving him a big hug and handing him a mug of coffee. I brushed back his grey bangs, he was getting old
If there is one drink I can never leave without, well, of course, aside from water, it’s brewed coffee. My daily dose? Four to five cups a day. No, not just in the morning. Any time of the day, no matter how how it is in the afternoon. At night? Yes. Even before I sleep.
It brewed
I stewed
Mulling over
Consequences.
And all that nothingness that brewed, that smog of nothingness, cleared away with a swipe of the wind, and I was left here without a skin, raw, as nothing continued to happen, on into the distance.
“This coffee is fucking disgusting,” She said, griiacing. “Where’d you get it?”
“Your coffee stash.” He said. “What, no taste for your own shit?”
Charlotte brewed beer, hunted deer, and kissed girls ’cause she was queer. She ate beef, smoked dry leaf, and ran the place like an Indian chief. She was sassy, she was classy, she had a voice that was trumpet-brassy. Now she’s older, growing colder, but still strong and tough as a boulder.
All through the office, people were running around like headless chickens, screaming into telephones. Jim sat in the kitchen, alone, and stared at the pot as the coffee brewed. Ted saw him through the window as he passed, and stuck his head in the door. “Should you be taking a break now? We could go under if this gets out of control!” Jim looked up at him, and smiled. “I just became a grandfather. All else is secondary!”
Brewed coffee.
Take a sip and just enjoy the day.
this is too fast. i cannot even organize my thought when i wrote about it. it is very tricky, i have to admit . and it’s too short too be expressive. ok, so i can still write more and more as I wanted, shit!
He brewed his own beer. He brewed his soul into his beer. His soul that was searching for something or someone. His soul transported to shops and homes hoping to find what he was looking for.
beer is brewed. yuck I hate beer…. more beer for everybody in the world because I won’t be drinking any of it
beer can be brewed. um idk anything about this word actually. you can brew coffee too.
Before she went to bed each night, she would be sure to brew herself a hot, steaming cup of caffeinated coffee. It was a must. With it, she could descend into hours of self-induced insomnia and relish the night sky for its many secret nudges and half obscured lights.
She took a sprinkle of sage and tossed it in the cauldron. “There,” she said, “it is almost finished.” As the concoction bubbled slowly, she thought about all that had led up to this point. She thought about her life and the things she had ben through and how she just wanted it all to end. When it was finished brewing, she dipped a cup into the slimy liquid. She raised it to her lips and drank every last drop. Minutes later, she collapsed to the floor, a smile gracing her lips.
Omg I lobe pizza so much I just got out of the resultant earls and I had a ceased salad and pizza I’m going to my brother hockey tournament and it’s going to take 2 hours to drive! Ew I don’t want to drive that long I’m drinking oh! My phone is at 20 percent crap! I better charge it before it dies Hasent it been more than 60 seconds? I thought it would be over by now that’s weird now my mom is asking me how my food was ha I think she feels like I’m being rude because im not looking at her and im trying to focus on this I think this is a trick to see how long you’ll write before you relize that it won’t stop you in 60 seconds hahah
beer in red solo cups guiding us through the night.
Cold
Drip
Lick
Spit
Drank
dRuNk
full glass, filled with gold. i settle my legs into the glass, gently lower my belly and my hips, my boobs touch the liquid. deeper still i persist, my neck gets wet, foam gets in my hair. i close my eyes as they go under. i sink deeper and minute bubbles rise around the edges of the pint.
stoutly brewed, not overdone. i settle my legs into the glass, gently lower my belly and my hips, my boobs touch the liquid. deeper still i persist, my neck gets wet, foam gets in my hair. i close my eyes as they go under. i sink deeper and minute bubbles rise around the edges of the pint.
The cauldron simmered over the fire, filled with an oily substance that hardly moved when the room shook. It did that quite a bit, these days. The earth would crack open, sometimes, and fire would spit out of the rifts. The witch of the wood didn’t mind these occurrences, though; she continued and brewed and protected the cauldron at all costs from the beast of the earth.
He watched as the woman dumped the sanguine vial into the golden depths contained in the vat. Eyes wide and expression disgusted, he met her eyes with a simple question “Why?”
Her anger brewed in her belly as she watched his hands slide effortlessly into another girls back pocket.
“I’m in charge of the brew,”
She laughs, handing him a styrofoam cup filled halfway with coffee.
“I got the brew, he gets the brownies.”
She unwraps the brownie and suddenly the school smells like death.
Brewed beer sloshes in a cup on our table. Bitterness flows from our ears. Our cheeks are red.
Brewed tea which is brewed.
he caught me – with me hands all red – and my body all blushed – deep in the brew of it – i was stewed in it – thats what can happen when you fool with a fooler in disguise as a master… you get brewed right along with the brew
He couldn’t believe it. She
was gone and he
was left alone with one thought
brewing inside of him:
He must get her back.
He must go after her.
He must-