i was backed into a corner i couldnt get out of. One person asked a question and then someone else chimed in. I couldn’t tell them the truth could I; that they both looked absolutely ridiculous in their mankinis
Arouond the corner, into another world. Something different, new. Something far. Another time over there. Joys of finding things and people around the corner. where two parts meet.
The corner of life is when your love is finished and you don’t regret your choices…
but after every corner there is another life, another love and another happyness
the place where anything can happen. people meet, greet, die, live, laugh, cry, sigh, cough, and oh so much more–but still, it is a meeting place of the ages.
I stood in the corner, a blank look on my face. It was a ragged corner, one that had probably seen better days. The cracks in the bricks had things stuck in them, sometimes a gum wrapper, sometimes the gum itself. I shook my head softly as I thought about what I had done. Why had my mother been so upset that the crystal vase had fallen? I would never understand.
I was sitting in the corner thinking sad thoughts, then out the corner of my eye I saw a bright light.. I learned that the next corner I turned in my life would be happy and blissful. this stayed in
He said he’d seen it through the corner of hie eye. It struck me as kinda strange because I’d never thought of eyes as having corners – being as how they’re kinda round. But that how he described it – through the corner of his eye. Odd huh?
I was on the corner of the edge. It was three dimensional, obviously. All pointy and intersecty. So then I fell off, and fell for ages. Finally I came to rest.
I have a corner in my mind that I try to keep free from all the clutter of every day life. A corner free from work and lessons and children and arguments. Free from cooking and planning and houeswork. A corner just for me. A free corner. A corner of freedom.
a corner is a really weird thing, yanno? seems like everywhere you go you see a corner. A building, a piece of paper, a laptop, a hat – the roundest thing you see and it will still ahve a corner. The best place to just look and think to yourself – no one else, just you in your corner thinking about whatever you want. As long as you don’t think yourself into a corner, you should be fine.
there is a corner on this page. hookers stand on a corner. i dont know what else to think about corners. i hit my elbow once on a corner and it hurt really bad. there are stop signs at each corner, well not each corner but almost everyone. i dont know what else to write. corners, a square has 4 corners.
corners hold things together, i like them. my friend can’t say the swedish word for corner properly, which makes me laugh. not as in an evil laugh. just funny.
you’re at the corner of my mind, corners i must say because i don’t think my skull’s really that round. i miss you and i love you but i’m sorry i’m being a stalker.
Wie ist es eigenartig, wenn man um die Ecke schaut und etwas dahinter vermutet, aber nichts findet.
Ist das Paranoia oder einfach nur Vorsicht? Vielleicht ist es beides oder einfach nur eine Übersensibilisierung meines Verstandes.
just around the corner i saw a little peie of green poking out, si i ran across the street to tell the barber ad he said ,listen joe i think you have gone mad, but i’ll trust you this time, so the barber went to his wife and said exavtlu what the man had told him him him, and now this is going to get really weird, but if you think that that htaht
There used to be a great tv show for kids called Corners. No idea what happened to that show. Corner(s) is also a silly work I use instead of “Cornwall”. ie: I’m going on holiday to Corners!
on the corner of the street, I saw a boy. He was so beautiful, it was love at first sight. I went closer, and talked to him. Now, one year later, we’re still a couple. We’re still in love!
what the fuck? corner? i don’t know what to write about a corner. I guess you sit in them. or put things you don’t want in them. i guess you might say they hurt when you run into them.
at the corner a man stood in the shadows, a fedora covering his eyes. He peered furtively at passing strangers and suddenly moved off, behind a fat man in a dirty mac. The man in the mac was unaware that the guy in the fedora was following him. They disappeared as a truck passed by.
Kids are made to sit in one corner. corner tables are useful and look nice with a vase on it. world is round with no corners so all that goes round comes back
The man at the corner started to sing, “What the hell, I am falling, the text is streaming through my eyes,” and suddenly, without warning, she appeared. “It’s been so long,” but they both looked confused, “What do you mean? I’ve been here all the time.” Which way, to the left, or to the right?
In the corner there is a baby. A baby who has been place into the corner. The why and wherefore aren’t important. She’s someone who evidently doesn’t like it, though; someone who cries, in fact, whenever she’s placed there, whose head hangs low like some modern Jack Horner, except this baby didn’t do anything in particular (good or bad) to get there and so she probably doesn’t even deserve to be there. She finds, in fact, that she prefers round rooms mostly these days; thinks she can breathe more easily inside of them. These days, she says, no one puts baby in the corner!
he was backed into a corner. what with the dead baby and half eaten cheeseburger still on the counter. he could have ran out the fire escape conveniently placed there by my mind just now, but that would be too easy. no, he couldnt do that. he decided to eat the baby.
She stood on the corner of today and yesterday. Yesterday smelled like baby poop in pampers and today wasn’t all roses. But she guessed it was better than the dark tomorrow she kept scribbling poems about. Fuck tommorrow. Today she got through a lousy cup of coffee and three breakdowns in the diner bathroom. Florence came in and decided that it was time to discuss her running tab. She was too busy vomiting the last of the vodka in her flask to engage Flo in her usual rant, but she meant to get back to the topic as soon as she could screw her head and the flask cap on correctly. As she wiped the last dribbles of puke from her chin, she stared and Florence’s worn shoes. The color was muted from too many spews of chili having melted through the outer laces of the fake leather, and the sides were rolled out, from hours of running and standing and pacing when business was slow. The color of the worn orthopedic shoe looked just like the vomit swirling in the quiet of the toilet. A silent, lamented orange, with a tinge of dirty beige and specks of brown. Flo’s shoes and vomit. This would have to be addressed after a bloody Mary at the expense of extending the running, troubled tab. Whatever. If it wasn’t for her, this business would be rotting shitless with no business. That plug alone deserved a bloody mary.
I sit in the corner of a dark room. No windows, no doors. No light except for a pinpoint coming from what i can imagine is the roof. I have no sense of up or down, left or right. The pinpoint of light grows to a pin hole gradually increasing. I sheild my eyes not having any recollection of how i got to this place or how long i have been here. I sure hope my time is not up…
Dark corner, at the back of the room, where she liked to sit and hide, pretend others couldn’t see her, weren’t watching her, judging her. a bit dusty, when she sat on the floor, a book and her knees drawn up tight, desks blocking her view of the front of the class. Corners were comfortable, she could see what was coming.
i like corners, i guess. they end things and begin other things. corners are good to hide in, good to back into when your afraid. i guess they’re not so good to be backed into. if you know someone else backs you into them. that’s bad. corners on walls could be painted nice. maybe put a shelf in? a little girl hiding in a corner
Unexpected, unpredictable, excitement, danger fear. Turning the corner into a new life, new beginning, the unknown. Sharp, pointy and uncomfortable but needed at times.
I sat in the corner, alone and afraid.
no one to hear my cries for help, no one to see the tears that I shed.
every moment alone, I died a little faster.
and by the time someone comes to save me
it’ll be too late
i was backed into a corner i couldnt get out of. One person asked a question and then someone else chimed in. I couldn’t tell them the truth could I; that they both looked absolutely ridiculous in their mankinis
The corner is a nexus and a stop. It structures and rigidifies holding together the whole.
The corner is a place enshroud oneself in guilt, shame or pity. To hide oneself from aggression; a retreat from a greater menace.
The corner is a place to investigate around. To thrust oneself beyond onto new pavements and perpendicular ideas.
Corners are built on degrees of substance and absence.
Arouond the corner, into another world. Something different, new. Something far. Another time over there. Joys of finding things and people around the corner. where two parts meet.
The corner of life is when your love is finished and you don’t regret your choices…
but after every corner there is another life, another love and another happyness
the place where anything can happen. people meet, greet, die, live, laugh, cry, sigh, cough, and oh so much more–but still, it is a meeting place of the ages.
I stood in the corner, a blank look on my face. It was a ragged corner, one that had probably seen better days. The cracks in the bricks had things stuck in them, sometimes a gum wrapper, sometimes the gum itself. I shook my head softly as I thought about what I had done. Why had my mother been so upset that the crystal vase had fallen? I would never understand.
give “peace” a chance
I was sitting in the corner thinking sad thoughts, then out the corner of my eye I saw a bright light.. I learned that the next corner I turned in my life would be happy and blissful. this stayed in
I was sent there but I didnt stay. It was only a few mins but it felt like eternity. I was coming bace from the corner store and I found that I
Dark, deep, lonely. Sharp, pointy, Should be avoided. Prostitutes.
He said he’d seen it through the corner of hie eye. It struck me as kinda strange because I’d never thought of eyes as having corners – being as how they’re kinda round. But that how he described it – through the corner of his eye. Odd huh?
I was on the corner of the edge. It was three dimensional, obviously. All pointy and intersecty. So then I fell off, and fell for ages. Finally I came to rest.
I have a corner in my mind that I try to keep free from all the clutter of every day life. A corner free from work and lessons and children and arguments. Free from cooking and planning and houeswork. A corner just for me. A free corner. A corner of freedom.
a corner is a really weird thing, yanno? seems like everywhere you go you see a corner. A building, a piece of paper, a laptop, a hat – the roundest thing you see and it will still ahve a corner. The best place to just look and think to yourself – no one else, just you in your corner thinking about whatever you want. As long as you don’t think yourself into a corner, you should be fine.
there is a corner on this page. hookers stand on a corner. i dont know what else to think about corners. i hit my elbow once on a corner and it hurt really bad. there are stop signs at each corner, well not each corner but almost everyone. i dont know what else to write. corners, a square has 4 corners.
corners hold things together, i like them. my friend can’t say the swedish word for corner properly, which makes me laugh. not as in an evil laugh. just funny.
you’re at the corner of my mind, corners i must say because i don’t think my skull’s really that round. i miss you and i love you but i’m sorry i’m being a stalker.
Wie ist es eigenartig, wenn man um die Ecke schaut und etwas dahinter vermutet, aber nichts findet.
Ist das Paranoia oder einfach nur Vorsicht? Vielleicht ist es beides oder einfach nur eine Übersensibilisierung meines Verstandes.
just around the corner i saw a little peie of green poking out, si i ran across the street to tell the barber ad he said ,listen joe i think you have gone mad, but i’ll trust you this time, so the barber went to his wife and said exavtlu what the man had told him him him, and now this is going to get really weird, but if you think that that htaht
There used to be a great tv show for kids called Corners. No idea what happened to that show. Corner(s) is also a silly work I use instead of “Cornwall”. ie: I’m going on holiday to Corners!
an intersection, a turning point, a safe haven where kids hang out with neighbors drinking pop, a bookend
on the corner of the street, I saw a boy. He was so beautiful, it was love at first sight. I went closer, and talked to him. Now, one year later, we’re still a couple. We’re still in love!
what the fuck? corner? i don’t know what to write about a corner. I guess you sit in them. or put things you don’t want in them. i guess you might say they hurt when you run into them.
at the corner a man stood in the shadows, a fedora covering his eyes. He peered furtively at passing strangers and suddenly moved off, behind a fat man in a dirty mac. The man in the mac was unaware that the guy in the fedora was following him. They disappeared as a truck passed by.
Kids are made to sit in one corner. corner tables are useful and look nice with a vase on it. world is round with no corners so all that goes round comes back
The man at the corner started to sing, “What the hell, I am falling, the text is streaming through my eyes,” and suddenly, without warning, she appeared. “It’s been so long,” but they both looked confused, “What do you mean? I’ve been here all the time.” Which way, to the left, or to the right?
In the corner there is a baby. A baby who has been place into the corner. The why and wherefore aren’t important. She’s someone who evidently doesn’t like it, though; someone who cries, in fact, whenever she’s placed there, whose head hangs low like some modern Jack Horner, except this baby didn’t do anything in particular (good or bad) to get there and so she probably doesn’t even deserve to be there. She finds, in fact, that she prefers round rooms mostly these days; thinks she can breathe more easily inside of them. These days, she says, no one puts baby in the corner!
Sitting in the corner
Playing with my life.
It hangs in the balance
Of this one little blade,
This one little word.
Death.
Death in the corner.
Death in my head.
Death in my heart.
The corner is my home,
I live here now.
I’ll live here forever,
I’ll die here tonight.
Help me.
I’m not broken,
But
B/r/e/a/k/i/n/g
And
I
Need
Help.
he was backed into a corner. what with the dead baby and half eaten cheeseburger still on the counter. he could have ran out the fire escape conveniently placed there by my mind just now, but that would be too easy. no, he couldnt do that. he decided to eat the baby.
4 corners
a swaure
at the end
at an angle
being in a tough spot a liquor store
corner pocket
pool
rectangle
4 points
any point with a 90 degree angle
there is a corner of my mind where you lie. That part of my brain will always be yours. Always.
She stood on the corner of today and yesterday. Yesterday smelled like baby poop in pampers and today wasn’t all roses. But she guessed it was better than the dark tomorrow she kept scribbling poems about. Fuck tommorrow. Today she got through a lousy cup of coffee and three breakdowns in the diner bathroom. Florence came in and decided that it was time to discuss her running tab. She was too busy vomiting the last of the vodka in her flask to engage Flo in her usual rant, but she meant to get back to the topic as soon as she could screw her head and the flask cap on correctly. As she wiped the last dribbles of puke from her chin, she stared and Florence’s worn shoes. The color was muted from too many spews of chili having melted through the outer laces of the fake leather, and the sides were rolled out, from hours of running and standing and pacing when business was slow. The color of the worn orthopedic shoe looked just like the vomit swirling in the quiet of the toilet. A silent, lamented orange, with a tinge of dirty beige and specks of brown. Flo’s shoes and vomit. This would have to be addressed after a bloody Mary at the expense of extending the running, troubled tab. Whatever. If it wasn’t for her, this business would be rotting shitless with no business. That plug alone deserved a bloody mary.
I sit in the corner of a dark room. No windows, no doors. No light except for a pinpoint coming from what i can imagine is the roof. I have no sense of up or down, left or right. The pinpoint of light grows to a pin hole gradually increasing. I sheild my eyes not having any recollection of how i got to this place or how long i have been here. I sure hope my time is not up…
is on a wall, it is square..thats about all i can write about a corner..hmm..
edge, extreme end,
Dark corner, at the back of the room, where she liked to sit and hide, pretend others couldn’t see her, weren’t watching her, judging her. a bit dusty, when she sat on the floor, a book and her knees drawn up tight, desks blocking her view of the front of the class. Corners were comfortable, she could see what was coming.
i like corners, i guess. they end things and begin other things. corners are good to hide in, good to back into when your afraid. i guess they’re not so good to be backed into. if you know someone else backs you into them. that’s bad. corners on walls could be painted nice. maybe put a shelf in? a little girl hiding in a corner
in the corner of the room was the knife that was used to murder the lovely blonde woman that nobody knew was missing.
Unexpected, unpredictable, excitement, danger fear. Turning the corner into a new life, new beginning, the unknown. Sharp, pointy and uncomfortable but needed at times.
I sat in the corner, alone and afraid.
no one to hear my cries for help, no one to see the tears that I shed.
every moment alone, I died a little faster.
and by the time someone comes to save me
it’ll be too late