Call out your name,
overly tattered and torn.
Reaper holds out his hand,
nearly broken and worn.
Embrace the dirt pouring in,
rapidly breathing and newly born.
She was standing at the street corner, her head bowed. Thinking to herself, singing to herself. Dreaming to herself. Cars passed her by, their headlights shining, blazing a way through the dark. She shoved her hands deep in her pockets and licked her lips. With a slight glance up at the sky, she let the night time envelope her.
An der Ecke steht er, auf einer alten Metallkiste. Er bricht nicht ein, weil er zu leicht ist dafür. Nur Knochen und zähe Muskeln und Sehnen. Ein löchriger Mantel und eine sonore Stimme: “Ihr Leute, hört mich! Kommt alle her, ich werde es euch sagen! Kommt, kommt alle, kommt jetzt, denn heute ist der Tag gekommen, an dem ihr alle erwacht!”
The corner of the street where I sit, waiting, curled up in a ball, in the dark rain, waiting for someone to come rescue me from the dark hole I’ve fallen into. Sitting with my thoughts flashing through my head, waiting, feeling the rain fall down my face.
of a building sticks into my back as i lean against it. Street markets sprout from the corner shading me as i search for the perfect apple. Light shines through the bustling crowd, blinding me as I scan from this corner
I used to live on a corner in my old house in Kasson. It had a stop sign and everything. So many cars stopped at the corner and I would watch them drive by.
I’m stuck in the corner. Unable to move. The police, and regulators has got me. Meaning it will be the end of me. I’m stuck on the corner, meaning this will be the last and only place that I’ll live, and die.
They send her to the corner when she’s been bad, or when she’s spoken out of turn or asked too many questions. They send her to the corner out of fear and out of loathing, forcing her to sit in the dark where two walls meet, the intersection of all that confines her staring into her face.
wall floor turkey stone corn blue fish whale the seventeen lies of annie smith don’t tell me to shut up, I’ll stand on my own two feet for christs sake. geez, this time sure takes forever. I’m finished with thinking
around the corner many people meet. It’s like the edge of life . You pass it, you meet people, after a few moments everyone is gone. New people come. Some will be remembered, some will be forgotten.
The corner of a busy street. That’s where Isaw her. She was a kinky girl with absoulutly nothing on. Me gusta. I asked her how much she charged. She said she wanted nothing. Then I realized. I’m talking to a fire hydrant. What the fuck. I guess i’m just that stupid. Or. Hydar
there is a corner in every room, corner is a joke between me and my friend catherine. there is also some yoghuts called muller corner and they are very nice. i like to sit in corners as i find it relaxing to be closed within a small space. corners are normally dark places
where i used to be, locked away from everyone and everything. I’m free
you’re there now. I want to help you. I know it’s hard but you can become free too. Trust me, i’ll make sure you can. I really like you.
he doesn’t hide from the truth but this is one memory that he can’t bring himself to face, shoving it instead to the neglected, abyssal depths of his mind: a game he never wanted to play, more like manhunt than hide-and-seek, blood and adrenaline roaring in his ears as his lungs burn for breath, every last energy devoted to increasing the distance between the hunter and the hunted– then the endgame, where he’s cornered like a rat and realizes that’s exactly, literally what it is.
I often enjoy sitting in a corner. Whether I want to or not I seem to always end up there. Not that I’m backed into a corner…I don’t communicate with others enough to ever get to that point. Rather, I retreat into a corner so that I don’t have to deal with other people.
i want to walk around the coorner and see the love of my life, run and jump into his arms. live happily forever and never let anyone bring us down. him and i will live our life togethor as an adventure, forever and ever
As a child, I used to see this shadow stand at the corner of my bedroom. He wore a fedora like hat and had a long trench coat. Although, I’m an adult now, sometimes that image just creeps in my head and i still get freaked out!
She was in the corner of her room, the one blackened, burned by her actions. Her fingers gliding along the wood floor, black dust on her fingertips. Her eyes were the same burnt coal black. I could see the burns on her arm, equally scarred, crawling up and down her arms, riddling her skin. The fire was long gone, no longer a threat, but I could see it in her eyes.
standing on the croner is what i think about. i don’t live in the city, but it always seemed like tat was the place where thingshappened. i also think of the tv show the wire. the city corner would be a convenience store corner, with people selling drugs. maybe. or being trapped in a corner
Her heels sounded throughout the hallway as she rounded the corner at a brisk pace. They had new information from the subjects, she’d heard, and apparently it was proving to be very interesting. “We’ll just have to see,” she smiled.
She was in the corner of her room, the one blackened, burned by her actions. Her fingers gliding along the wood floor, black dust on her fingertips. Her eyes were the same burnt coal black.
Corners, quiet, safe, dark corners. A place to get away from everything, my dream world. I don’t know what I would do, if it weren’t for corners. I’d probably go crazy. Probably.
In the corner of the room there was a field. It was golden brown and magnificent. I could see out everywhere. I could see the trees and birds and the flowers and the sky. I could see that there was nothing I could do to get near it. So I left. I haven’t been back since.
at the corner of haight and ashbury i submerged myself into passion.
I was a product of light and the wind that cried my name. I’d look up at the yellow sky, blue sun and swear, “I’ll shoot the atmosphere into my veins!” The time was surreal and endless, until one night I thought, “I’ve had too much to dream tonight.” And the crowds cleared, and the vinyl scratching needle lifted… and as soon as psychedelia had arrived, it flew away.
I was standing in the corner because I’d been bad. It’s not so terrible to stand there. If you just concentrate you mind on the minute imperfections of the drywall finish and don’t think about what you are actually doing it’s really quite fun.
Sometimes I feel like I am trapped in a corner and there is no way out. And the weird part is that even when I am done being “cornered” in, I just stay where I was to prevent change. I wish I had the strength sometimes to realize when I can go free from whatever it is instead of lengthening the suffocation and hiding.
The corner is where i sit and cry when I am upset. It is my comfort place, yet I can’t help but feel hatred towards it. It is the place where i retreat to when it seems all else is lost, and it is the place where I would rather be anywhere but.
i was in the corner of my room cause i saw a spider i went to kill it now its gone now im on my bed crying because i cant find it turns out it was on my nose the whole time i peed alot it scared me so much
there, sitting in the corner, are the memories, like they have been abandoned, but right there, in the corner of the eye, where they obscure your vision sometimes.
at the street corner, the musician played his heart out. it wasn’t that he hadn’t eaten in a day and a half, or that he cared that people listened. he played for himself. for his craft. his passion. when he walked away from a scholarship to harvard all those years ago, he knew…
On the corner of my bed I could see him looking up at me, his steel eyes tryin to whisper words that his mouth could not form. I only wish I knew his language. I don’t know how to speak silently, letting words roll off of my eyelids like dew instead of letting sharp, metallic sounds escape from my mouth. He move his hands deftly, spelling out another language I didn’t understand. I could barely perceive what he was saying, but somehow I knew: “If only.”
I sat in the corner with my legs pulled up to my chest. The library was quiet at this time of night. No body should’ve been here, really,but I had always wondered what it would be like here to be here in the dark…
The tall, haunting shelves loomed above me as I sat.
And watched.
And listened.
Call out your name,
overly tattered and torn.
Reaper holds out his hand,
nearly broken and worn.
Embrace the dirt pouring in,
rapidly breathing and newly born.
She was standing at the street corner, her head bowed. Thinking to herself, singing to herself. Dreaming to herself. Cars passed her by, their headlights shining, blazing a way through the dark. She shoved her hands deep in her pockets and licked her lips. With a slight glance up at the sky, she let the night time envelope her.
An der Ecke steht er, auf einer alten Metallkiste. Er bricht nicht ein, weil er zu leicht ist dafür. Nur Knochen und zähe Muskeln und Sehnen. Ein löchriger Mantel und eine sonore Stimme: “Ihr Leute, hört mich! Kommt alle her, ich werde es euch sagen! Kommt, kommt alle, kommt jetzt, denn heute ist der Tag gekommen, an dem ihr alle erwacht!”
a place where you sleep. where two walls meet.
The corner of the street where I sit, waiting, curled up in a ball, in the dark rain, waiting for someone to come rescue me from the dark hole I’ve fallen into. Sitting with my thoughts flashing through my head, waiting, feeling the rain fall down my face.
of a building sticks into my back as i lean against it. Street markets sprout from the corner shading me as i search for the perfect apple. Light shines through the bustling crowd, blinding me as I scan from this corner
I used to live on a corner in my old house in Kasson. It had a stop sign and everything. So many cars stopped at the corner and I would watch them drive by.
I’m stuck in the corner. Unable to move. The police, and regulators has got me. Meaning it will be the end of me. I’m stuck on the corner, meaning this will be the last and only place that I’ll live, and die.
They send her to the corner when she’s been bad, or when she’s spoken out of turn or asked too many questions. They send her to the corner out of fear and out of loathing, forcing her to sit in the dark where two walls meet, the intersection of all that confines her staring into her face.
wall floor turkey stone corn blue fish whale the seventeen lies of annie smith don’t tell me to shut up, I’ll stand on my own two feet for christs sake. geez, this time sure takes forever. I’m finished with thinking
around the corner many people meet. It’s like the edge of life . You pass it, you meet people, after a few moments everyone is gone. New people come. Some will be remembered, some will be forgotten.
The corner of a busy street. That’s where Isaw her. She was a kinky girl with absoulutly nothing on. Me gusta. I asked her how much she charged. She said she wanted nothing. Then I realized. I’m talking to a fire hydrant. What the fuck. I guess i’m just that stupid. Or. Hydar
there is a corner in every room, corner is a joke between me and my friend catherine. there is also some yoghuts called muller corner and they are very nice. i like to sit in corners as i find it relaxing to be closed within a small space. corners are normally dark places
It’s in the middle where two walls meet and it’s usually not that big or spacy. It’s not much but it’s still an item. Appreciate it while you can.
where i used to be, locked away from everyone and everything. I’m free
you’re there now. I want to help you. I know it’s hard but you can become free too. Trust me, i’ll make sure you can. I really like you.
he doesn’t hide from the truth but this is one memory that he can’t bring himself to face, shoving it instead to the neglected, abyssal depths of his mind: a game he never wanted to play, more like manhunt than hide-and-seek, blood and adrenaline roaring in his ears as his lungs burn for breath, every last energy devoted to increasing the distance between the hunter and the hunted– then the endgame, where he’s cornered like a rat and realizes that’s exactly, literally what it is.
I often enjoy sitting in a corner. Whether I want to or not I seem to always end up there. Not that I’m backed into a corner…I don’t communicate with others enough to ever get to that point. Rather, I retreat into a corner so that I don’t have to deal with other people.
i want to walk around the coorner and see the love of my life, run and jump into his arms. live happily forever and never let anyone bring us down. him and i will live our life togethor as an adventure, forever and ever
As a child, I used to see this shadow stand at the corner of my bedroom. He wore a fedora like hat and had a long trench coat. Although, I’m an adult now, sometimes that image just creeps in my head and i still get freaked out!
She was in the corner of her room, the one blackened, burned by her actions. Her fingers gliding along the wood floor, black dust on her fingertips. Her eyes were the same burnt coal black. I could see the burns on her arm, equally scarred, crawling up and down her arms, riddling her skin. The fire was long gone, no longer a threat, but I could see it in her eyes.
standing on the croner is what i think about. i don’t live in the city, but it always seemed like tat was the place where thingshappened. i also think of the tv show the wire. the city corner would be a convenience store corner, with people selling drugs. maybe. or being trapped in a corner
Her heels sounded throughout the hallway as she rounded the corner at a brisk pace. They had new information from the subjects, she’d heard, and apparently it was proving to be very interesting. “We’ll just have to see,” she smiled.
A lot like an intersection of thought – like neurons at the corner of somas and axons. Like a street sign for the meeting of the minds.
She was in the corner of her room, the one blackened, burned by her actions. Her fingers gliding along the wood floor, black dust on her fingertips. Her eyes were the same burnt coal black.
Corners, quiet, safe, dark corners. A place to get away from everything, my dream world. I don’t know what I would do, if it weren’t for corners. I’d probably go crazy. Probably.
In the corner of the room there was a field. It was golden brown and magnificent. I could see out everywhere. I could see the trees and birds and the flowers and the sky. I could see that there was nothing I could do to get near it. So I left. I haven’t been back since.
at the corner of haight and ashbury i submerged myself into passion.
I was a product of light and the wind that cried my name. I’d look up at the yellow sky, blue sun and swear, “I’ll shoot the atmosphere into my veins!” The time was surreal and endless, until one night I thought, “I’ve had too much to dream tonight.” And the crowds cleared, and the vinyl scratching needle lifted… and as soon as psychedelia had arrived, it flew away.
its a place you wish not to be
I was standing in the corner because I’d been bad. It’s not so terrible to stand there. If you just concentrate you mind on the minute imperfections of the drywall finish and don’t think about what you are actually doing it’s really quite fun.
I cower in the corner
Away from your angst
Shielding my face
All I see is Black and Blue
Sometimes I feel like I am trapped in a corner and there is no way out. And the weird part is that even when I am done being “cornered” in, I just stay where I was to prevent change. I wish I had the strength sometimes to realize when I can go free from whatever it is instead of lengthening the suffocation and hiding.
The corner is where i sit and cry when I am upset. It is my comfort place, yet I can’t help but feel hatred towards it. It is the place where i retreat to when it seems all else is lost, and it is the place where I would rather be anywhere but.
i was in the corner of my room cause i saw a spider i went to kill it now its gone now im on my bed crying because i cant find it turns out it was on my nose the whole time i peed alot it scared me so much
Down around the bend;
A feeling I get when I dont want to talk about something that is sprung on me.
Angled
there, sitting in the corner, are the memories, like they have been abandoned, but right there, in the corner of the eye, where they obscure your vision sometimes.
at the street corner, the musician played his heart out. it wasn’t that he hadn’t eaten in a day and a half, or that he cared that people listened. he played for himself. for his craft. his passion. when he walked away from a scholarship to harvard all those years ago, he knew…
ilike the corner
On the corner of my bed I could see him looking up at me, his steel eyes tryin to whisper words that his mouth could not form. I only wish I knew his language. I don’t know how to speak silently, letting words roll off of my eyelids like dew instead of letting sharp, metallic sounds escape from my mouth. He move his hands deftly, spelling out another language I didn’t understand. I could barely perceive what he was saying, but somehow I knew: “If only.”
I sat in the corner with my legs pulled up to my chest. The library was quiet at this time of night. No body should’ve been here, really,but I had always wondered what it would be like here to be here in the dark…
The tall, haunting shelves loomed above me as I sat.
And watched.
And listened.
The boy sat in the corner. Why was he there? No-one could be sure. But it seemed he had always been there. Waiting.