You’d think that by the time my toes are stiffening, my bones are shaking, the hairs on my arms are stuck up straight and the blood in my fingers is swirling around in a frantic and desperate attempt at warmth, the furnace in this old building would have kicked in.
it keeps me warm. it gives me heat. to live without my furnace would be terrible. because during the winter nights, i use its warmth to keep me cozy. the furnace is big and tall. i like the heat that it give me, keeping me feeling like i am at home.
furnace was a store near me. i feel bad for the owner. he used to owna serious hard core skate shop, now hes selling girls clothes. he must feel like such a sell out. i know hes making money, but at what cost is he cant remain true to himself.
He snorted with disgust as he read the next entry. She’d written so much poetry. “Too bad it wasn’t any good,” he thought gleefully. He ripped out another page and fed her words to the fiery, fiery furnace.
“Stealing glances between the exchange of words,” he recited pretentiously, “I caught you gazing while my face was turned.”
He dropped the book in his lap dumbfounded that she’d noticed.
I wish I had a furnace because its really cold in this room and I dont like having this blanket wrapped around me. Thats unusuall I fell like being wrapped in a blanket is supposed to be thr typical picture of comfort,maybe its because its hard to type.
I turned toward the furnace, eager to let it embrace me with it’s soft, warm hands. Instantly at ease, my thoughts turned to the previous day. I could hear the bells ringing as if they were ringing now.
furnace.. yeah been there man. been burning stuff
made a new man out of a furnace. crafted out of clay
souled by biological AI
furnace
yeah you know you dont want to be in one
I wish my car had better heating, like a central furnace system, only for a car. It’s really annoying that it takes forever to heat up, when it is so effing cold outside. I mean really, come on Austin, I know you’re from Texas but you can do better than that. You’re a big car, get some big cahones!
Time stands still. The clockface shatters and the hands halt. I stand still. The secrets of the universe are racing over my head and wheeling into empty space. Inside myself a battle is waged. I turn back the years and watch my own birth. I stay the hand that works the bellows, fueling the fire that forged my heart. The shapeless, mangled form of it falls to the ashes. Ashes to ashes. I feel the fire cooling, the heat fading, ebbing, throbbing into nonexistence. Soon I will be gone, too. The warmth flows out of me like poison leaving a wound. Water flows over my skin, dancing around me, embracing my form, loving. Slowly, it freezes around me, shards of ice slide through my body, and I am held under the weight. I lie still. I wait for peace, but the agony returns as the flames rip through my body. The hands are working again, working the bellows. They pump; they rise and fall, blowing life back into the fire, welding the disunited pieces of my heart, reforging, recreating. The clock starts to tick as the hands move over the face of my heart, and time starts again.
the furnace is hot. the furnace burned my bottom when i was younger because i had no where else to sit. i don’t have that furnace anymore. i’m not very sure what a furnace is. i am just talking about a heater.
My heart is on fire right now with pain people hate me dont they im nothing that anybody wants around or wants to be i should go home where im want to be cause im not allowed anywhere else except in my furnace!
I sit beside the furnace, reading a book while my family watches television. We all have our own spots; my mother has the couch, my grandmother has the rocking chair, and I sit in a children’s chair that I’ve long outgrown. I hate sitting beside the heat, reading books I’ve already read, sitting in a chair I no longer fit in, but I do it anyways. For a few hours, I can pretend that we are a normal family that spends time together; as long as I stay quiet and read to myself, that is.
it is hot, it is a place that you burn things. it can get broken and it is a bitch to fix it. i don’t want to have one in my new house. it can cause you to have a fire if not properly taken care of. i don’t really understand why they are still in houses; especially the wood burning furnaces.
Heated by the furnace. We sit there, backs to the flame, warmed by each other as much as the fire. How much longer will we have to wait? Only until the snow clears.
it was hot, really hot, and burning down the ship. no one knew it would come to this, but at the same time everyone knew the furnace was an old piece of shit. get your life jackets, get your bottle of scotch, and get your fucking little sister.
A furnace is not something people in Californa are used to. Most people in California have electric heaters. Back in Ohio the furnace in the basement was very scary and loud. When it started up.
His eyes weren’t the soft, warm glow of a fireplace, or the smokey isolated one of a campfire, but the searing, penetrating burn of a furnace. Menacing and ominous.
The furnace burns
intensely with fire,
fueling my ambivalence,
my obliviousness,
throwing into
red light without
any other color.
Blind to other’s problems,
exhaustions,
conflicts.
Looking at my own
energy coming back at me.
Fire. The blazing fire that refines us like gold, melting away every impurity, and bringing out the best in us. But everyone knows temperatures of thousands of degrees are never comfortable. Ohh, the price we pay for self improvement…
He laid her clothes on top of the furnace. Only for a few minutes; he didn’t want her to be cold but nor did he want his apartment to catch on fire. The warmth was ready and waiting for her when she came out of the shower. She noticed the heat in her clothes, but took them without a thank you. She turned around, picked up her wedding ring, and left before she could see the disappointment in his eyes.
Umm, i’m pretty sure this is the hot place where they put glass right? So, heat, fire, read, orange. Black stove-like thing. Creativity. Ingenuity. Sand, BOILING! Sweat, talent. Men.
furnace, i don’t really know what to say. furnaces are good, because they are warm and stuff. not really much to say to be honest. i was kinda hoping for a different word, like ‘life’ or something. ok, time up now right?
I think the furnace in my dorm is broken. I’m sitting in my bed wearing far too many layers to be comfortable and buried underneath 4 blankets and still shivering. Dear Wisconsin, please begin to warm up again. This whole single digits temperature fad should end quick. Thanks.
This word reminds me of the repetiveness of this website. if only i could try out a different word id be so much happier, this word is the thing thats holding me back from describing other words in the english language that i so desire.
When she saw the furnace, one remaining source of light shining in her so very bleak world, it changed things for her. the fire fueled her soul and spread a warmth through her soul and heart that would forever be imprinted their.
A deep passion within my soul has been awakened. i can not tame it, for if i try, i will be putting out not only the fire that i fight against but the fire that fuels me. Strength and fear.
The furnace stands like an ancient reminder of the past. Old and gray and covered with rust. And noisy to boot. But the warmth and comfort will never be surpassed.
The man in the basement shoveled furiously. The coals flew into the fire like hungry swarms of dung beetles descending upon a fresh elephant stool. It was the middle of winter and he knew he would have to work double-time to heat the upstairs because a) it was unseasonably cold; b) the furnace was old and inefficient; and c) the roof had been torn off by a tornado six months ago.
it something to do with fire, i believe. I also think you put it on your living room. It is possibly something that people use and talk about often, it deffinitely is.
the furnace burns like the desire in my soul, the desire to love and be loved. but it burns..like fire. fire that should never be touched. so i want to shy away from it, shy away from love. before i get hurt. heartbroken. burnt. scarred.
It lit up in a burning fiery light,
embers exploding out of the heat,
and the furnace was no more.
It expected to be saved,
but was not spared by the
ignorance of the woman
caught up in the burning passion
of her romance novel.
The furnace burnt brightly, lighting up the dirt-smudged faces of the street urchins who huddled around its fiery circumference. They pulled their bedraggled sleeves up to their palms and rubbed their weathered, stubby fingers together, warming their blood.
You’d think that by the time my toes are stiffening, my bones are shaking, the hairs on my arms are stuck up straight and the blood in my fingers is swirling around in a frantic and desperate attempt at warmth, the furnace in this old building would have kicked in.
so lets think about it.. burning
fuel burns
leaves burn
some may say fern burns… yeah?
incase you were wondering
A FERN GOES IN A FURNACE
it keeps me warm. it gives me heat. to live without my furnace would be terrible. because during the winter nights, i use its warmth to keep me cozy. the furnace is big and tall. i like the heat that it give me, keeping me feeling like i am at home.
furnace was a store near me. i feel bad for the owner. he used to owna serious hard core skate shop, now hes selling girls clothes. he must feel like such a sell out. i know hes making money, but at what cost is he cant remain true to himself.
right foot left foot
Is this truly the end?
the rumors are true
right foot left foot
i am not ready
i am too young
right foot left foot
i am not ready
He snorted with disgust as he read the next entry. She’d written so much poetry. “Too bad it wasn’t any good,” he thought gleefully. He ripped out another page and fed her words to the fiery, fiery furnace.
“Stealing glances between the exchange of words,” he recited pretentiously, “I caught you gazing while my face was turned.”
He dropped the book in his lap dumbfounded that she’d noticed.
Just like life, burns things to make society happier
I wish I had a furnace because its really cold in this room and I dont like having this blanket wrapped around me. Thats unusuall I fell like being wrapped in a blanket is supposed to be thr typical picture of comfort,maybe its because its hard to type.
I turned toward the furnace, eager to let it embrace me with it’s soft, warm hands. Instantly at ease, my thoughts turned to the previous day. I could hear the bells ringing as if they were ringing now.
furnace.. yeah been there man. been burning stuff
made a new man out of a furnace. crafted out of clay
souled by biological AI
furnace
yeah you know you dont want to be in one
I wish my car had better heating, like a central furnace system, only for a car. It’s really annoying that it takes forever to heat up, when it is so effing cold outside. I mean really, come on Austin, I know you’re from Texas but you can do better than that. You’re a big car, get some big cahones!
Time stands still. The clockface shatters and the hands halt. I stand still. The secrets of the universe are racing over my head and wheeling into empty space. Inside myself a battle is waged. I turn back the years and watch my own birth. I stay the hand that works the bellows, fueling the fire that forged my heart. The shapeless, mangled form of it falls to the ashes. Ashes to ashes. I feel the fire cooling, the heat fading, ebbing, throbbing into nonexistence. Soon I will be gone, too. The warmth flows out of me like poison leaving a wound. Water flows over my skin, dancing around me, embracing my form, loving. Slowly, it freezes around me, shards of ice slide through my body, and I am held under the weight. I lie still. I wait for peace, but the agony returns as the flames rip through my body. The hands are working again, working the bellows. They pump; they rise and fall, blowing life back into the fire, welding the disunited pieces of my heart, reforging, recreating. The clock starts to tick as the hands move over the face of my heart, and time starts again.
the furnace is hot. the furnace burned my bottom when i was younger because i had no where else to sit. i don’t have that furnace anymore. i’m not very sure what a furnace is. i am just talking about a heater.
My house is not heated by central heat. We chop, split, stack and dry our wood by the quard. It’s so nice to work for the things you have.
My heart is on fire right now with pain people hate me dont they im nothing that anybody wants around or wants to be i should go home where im want to be cause im not allowed anywhere else except in my furnace!
I sit beside the furnace, reading a book while my family watches television. We all have our own spots; my mother has the couch, my grandmother has the rocking chair, and I sit in a children’s chair that I’ve long outgrown. I hate sitting beside the heat, reading books I’ve already read, sitting in a chair I no longer fit in, but I do it anyways. For a few hours, I can pretend that we are a normal family that spends time together; as long as I stay quiet and read to myself, that is.
it is hot, it is a place that you burn things. it can get broken and it is a bitch to fix it. i don’t want to have one in my new house. it can cause you to have a fire if not properly taken care of. i don’t really understand why they are still in houses; especially the wood burning furnaces.
Heated by the furnace. We sit there, backs to the flame, warmed by each other as much as the fire. How much longer will we have to wait? Only until the snow clears.
it was hot, really hot, and burning down the ship. no one knew it would come to this, but at the same time everyone knew the furnace was an old piece of shit. get your life jackets, get your bottle of scotch, and get your fucking little sister.
The furnace carried through the sound of flames that could only describe the ever burning embers.
A furnace is not something people in Californa are used to. Most people in California have electric heaters. Back in Ohio the furnace in the basement was very scary and loud. When it started up.
The building was merely a furnace of power. Burning, burning, and burning through the useless souls of a society being forced to lead.
His eyes weren’t the soft, warm glow of a fireplace, or the smokey isolated one of a campfire, but the searing, penetrating burn of a furnace. Menacing and ominous.
Crackling fire. Burning flames. Creaking floors. Engine coming alive. Scary grate. Wondering if the furnace would come alive under our feet.
The furnace burns
intensely with fire,
fueling my ambivalence,
my obliviousness,
throwing into
red light without
any other color.
Blind to other’s problems,
exhaustions,
conflicts.
Looking at my own
energy coming back at me.
Fire. The blazing fire that refines us like gold, melting away every impurity, and bringing out the best in us. But everyone knows temperatures of thousands of degrees are never comfortable. Ohh, the price we pay for self improvement…
He laid her clothes on top of the furnace. Only for a few minutes; he didn’t want her to be cold but nor did he want his apartment to catch on fire. The warmth was ready and waiting for her when she came out of the shower. She noticed the heat in her clothes, but took them without a thank you. She turned around, picked up her wedding ring, and left before she could see the disappointment in his eyes.
Umm, i’m pretty sure this is the hot place where they put glass right? So, heat, fire, read, orange. Black stove-like thing. Creativity. Ingenuity. Sand, BOILING! Sweat, talent. Men.
furnace, i don’t really know what to say. furnaces are good, because they are warm and stuff. not really much to say to be honest. i was kinda hoping for a different word, like ‘life’ or something. ok, time up now right?
I think the furnace in my dorm is broken. I’m sitting in my bed wearing far too many layers to be comfortable and buried underneath 4 blankets and still shivering. Dear Wisconsin, please begin to warm up again. This whole single digits temperature fad should end quick. Thanks.
This word reminds me of the repetiveness of this website. if only i could try out a different word id be so much happier, this word is the thing thats holding me back from describing other words in the english language that i so desire.
When she saw the furnace, one remaining source of light shining in her so very bleak world, it changed things for her. the fire fueled her soul and spread a warmth through her soul and heart that would forever be imprinted their.
A deep passion within my soul has been awakened. i can not tame it, for if i try, i will be putting out not only the fire that i fight against but the fire that fuels me. Strength and fear.
The furnace stands like an ancient reminder of the past. Old and gray and covered with rust. And noisy to boot. But the warmth and comfort will never be surpassed.
The man in the basement shoveled furiously. The coals flew into the fire like hungry swarms of dung beetles descending upon a fresh elephant stool. It was the middle of winter and he knew he would have to work double-time to heat the upstairs because a) it was unseasonably cold; b) the furnace was old and inefficient; and c) the roof had been torn off by a tornado six months ago.
it something to do with fire, i believe. I also think you put it on your living room. It is possibly something that people use and talk about often, it deffinitely is.
the furnace burns like the desire in my soul, the desire to love and be loved. but it burns..like fire. fire that should never be touched. so i want to shy away from it, shy away from love. before i get hurt. heartbroken. burnt. scarred.
Keep it lit keep it lit, back behind the deep abyss comes a fiery light to so much bliss.
It lit up in a burning fiery light,
embers exploding out of the heat,
and the furnace was no more.
It expected to be saved,
but was not spared by the
ignorance of the woman
caught up in the burning passion
of her romance novel.
The furnace burnt brightly, lighting up the dirt-smudged faces of the street urchins who huddled around its fiery circumference. They pulled their bedraggled sleeves up to their palms and rubbed their weathered, stubby fingers together, warming their blood.