Time measured in deaths measured in green eyes dictating moments and movements and tick tick firings away. I love you so, and the challenge of death, issued me through time to be wary and fitful sends me sleepless to dreaming in multiplicatives. Give me all your heartbeats, and I will give you an edge.
Have you ever measured a beam with a measuring tape? The long, yellow tape pulled out from the hard case. It never stays straight, always bending and flipping. I actually hit a measuring tape on my room fan just today after trying to measure out the height of a bookshelf i plan on making. 1900 mm tall i have decided. It is going to have a shelf for a little pot plant, or, maybe some bottles of alcohol. Measuring tapes….has 60 seconds been up already? This task reminds me of QCS writing task in year 12, talking about time. Where i wrote about a young girl on her death bed in hospital. Lovely i know…Maybe I should write more, its enjoyable really. Gosh dam, 60 seconds is up for sure, or was it 5 minutes? I can’t remember. I wonder what other people write on here. They say not to think while you write this, but who doesn’t. Our mind is continuously thinking. Strumming over ideas that flood our head. Lana Del Ray has just come on.
I wonder what people do measure. I dare say people would measure how much they like someone, how long their thumbs are, how plain their dress sense is and what not. Measure how much money someone has, or how much money they have. Money is shit though, so there is no space here to write about that plastic stuff. Or paper, if your a yankee.
I stood there waiting, in such a panic. I thought I could feel a sweat drop, crawling down from my frow. But nothing. A built man in a grey pin stripped suit came out.
He saw right through me, measured me …up….down. God was my fly undone?
i measured my papers and then came the time when i had to draw in it…it was tough..i couldn’t decide what to draw.this was my last chance to make it up to him and yet i was all blank.why?what happend to me!
measured by the pain in my heart, i feel your breath against my neck, but my mind has wandered, i’ve lost myself in your eyes, and i can no longer see the light, i miss how things were, i miss what we had, and now i lose my self once more.
I frantically measured the time, racing againgt a hope that one day, I could fill a page in merely a second, lor sixty of them. My life depended on this one experiecnce, as if by a
I measured a spoonful of sugar for the cake batter. I didn’t think it would be nearly enough, as I am a sugar-holic, and, well, it’s not like I’ve ever experienced a sugar-high before… so, I added yet another spoonful, probably much to my own mother’s demise. Luckily for me, she didn’t see. So, one sugary battered cake, coming right up!
in math class i measured the world and all the numbers involved. the magic of tubes and flasks, bundled up in a small class and didnt seem to cover it all. it didn’t grasp what was being measured not even in the simplest of terms, numbers being too restrictive for the world.
When its all said and done do you think it will be enough? If God measured your sins by your genuine attempts to make a positive difference in the world do you think he’d open the gates and let you into Heaven???
measure flour and eggs and sugar and make something
um yeah it’s like this right now because sometimes to keep getting better you have to keep going even if you don’t know what you’re doing..
I measured my love this time
Because I did not want to lose it all
I measured my smiles this day
So that I did not recklessly throw them away
I was and will always be
Bound in the joyful sorrow of measurements
defined
I don’t understand the point of this…what exactly am I writing? Everything in our world is measured; it is how we, as humans, struggle to make sense of the world we live in.
If I were to measure time it would not be with grains of sand or by counting one by one upon the hands of a man. Rather I would keep tally with more important things, like each breath you take or the shifting of the seas.
I measured the hours and the minutes and they passed by in front of me. Nodding off, I couldn’t quite clearly see the clock that became blurrier and blurrier. It’s been too long. that’s all I know.
A machine created to measure love? What would that look like? It would have two pink seats wired up to a machine, humming and buzzing. There would be a suction cup to place on your heart, that would take out all your love and enter in into the machine. It would fill up tubes, like water or sand, and indicate your love for the person sitting next to you. What an invention that would be
I’m not a ruler kind of guy myself. Measuring is difficult because it’s relative, you see? What are you measuring against? What are you measuring for? Why measure at all?
a way for humans to rationally describe different numbers of things. This is a way people are able to control things. scientific. modernist thinking. time, age, height weight, distance. measure is arbitrary.
I carefully measured the flour. lined in up in the cup, and cut it off with the knife. There. The boys in front of me were already putting their cajke in the oven, and I was only up to measuring, but theres was already baking.
In a perfect world,
He would have been mine from the start, and
She can have my ex.
My two gay friends could be together without scorn
And nobody would be in a hurry,
Since we live in a world sewn with punctuation.
I wouldn’t mind being a crutch and
The stars would be a bit brighter.
Music would play just a little louder
And the world would sing all at once.
I would always see the world in his eyes,
He would never feel distant
And he would know, with just a touch,
The amount of love I have for him.
He makes up a piece of what makes me up,
Even though the rush of day to day living is exhausting
Coming home to him, or waking up with him,
Those simple little things warm me
In the depression of winter.
Measured. Makes me think about math, considering I have a Calculus 2 test coming up in the next 24 hours that I should be studying for instead of doing this. But I enjoy this whole-heartedly. It’s not only an activity or a workout for the brain, it is something I do for daily enjoyment. Once a writer, always a writer.
How do I measure up in my kids eyes? Am I good enough? Or now that they are adults do they ask themselves why wasn’t Mom better or how in the world did mom manage all us kids and Dad too?
He whispers to me,
“How much do you love me?”
I say
” Dear, you cannot measure love..
But if I could compare how much I love you to anything, It would be the amount of stars in the sky, and the amount of butterflies that stir in my stomach whenever you walk in the room.”
I felt that my worth was measured by my accomplishments in life. Did I pass or fail I have no idea. I hate to think that my worth would be summed up by what I had or had not accomplished.
As I measured the amount of time left in my life I realized how little there actually was. Don’t get me wrong 2,000 years is a long time but compared to the age of the cosmos it is nothing. To them I am still a speck of dust, a mere blip on the radar.
After we measured out the cocoa and butter and flour and sugar, we took a break because I inconceivably twisted my wrist while pulling the egg whisk out of the cramped drawer of cooking tools and utensils. Now Sadie was sidled up to me at the dining room table, as I applied a bag of frozen meatballs against my arm where the muscle was turning black and blue.
“You can say you were in a great cooking accident,” she declared with amusement.
As I measured the amount of time left in my life I realized how little it actually. Don’t get me wrong 2,000 years is a long time compared to how long humans use to live, but it is nothing when compared to the cosmos. I am still a speck of dust compared to the awe-inducing vastness of the universe.
i measured a bit of water tonight. i tried drinking the prebrewed coffee my grandfather consistently drinks. It doesn’t have that satisfying coffee quirk.
measured is a word when you measure cheese and cheese smells and lemons and geese and farts and lemon and geese and farts and grandmothers elucidating nostrils.
Time is measured in different ways. Sailors measure it with the watch on their wrist. Students measure it with the time of the old rundown clock on the wall. I measure it by the hours, minutes, seconds that I am away from you. That I don’t hear your voice. That I am not next to you. That I can’t hold your hand or brush my lips against your warm, smooth cheek. Time feels endless when I can’t be with you.
my love for you,
cannot be measured.
I’d do anything
and when i say anything,
I literally mean anything
for you
and all i ask for in return
is faith
in me
please give me strength
help me get through the tough parts
of life
give me a shoulder when i cry
make me feel better
please don’t abuse my love for you
I wouldn’t be able to take it
oh, heartache
how I hate you
you make me smile
and make everything better
all the time
i tend to freak out
simply because i’m so attached
don’t go
you give me chills
all the way through my spine
when you tell me you love me
when you laugh at my lousy jokes
i get giddy
i cannot stand the fact
of the thought
of you being with someone else
i’ll kill them.
It seems every joy and pain in life is measured. Nothing lasts forever. No happiness no pain no suffering lasts forever. You cannot measure happiness, or can you? Thee is a country not very well known that forgot about money. They measure the happiness of their people. Don’t believe me? look it up. Bhutan.
Time measured in deaths measured in green eyes dictating moments and movements and tick tick firings away. I love you so, and the challenge of death, issued me through time to be wary and fitful sends me sleepless to dreaming in multiplicatives. Give me all your heartbeats, and I will give you an edge.
Have you ever measured a beam with a measuring tape? The long, yellow tape pulled out from the hard case. It never stays straight, always bending and flipping. I actually hit a measuring tape on my room fan just today after trying to measure out the height of a bookshelf i plan on making. 1900 mm tall i have decided. It is going to have a shelf for a little pot plant, or, maybe some bottles of alcohol. Measuring tapes….has 60 seconds been up already? This task reminds me of QCS writing task in year 12, talking about time. Where i wrote about a young girl on her death bed in hospital. Lovely i know…Maybe I should write more, its enjoyable really. Gosh dam, 60 seconds is up for sure, or was it 5 minutes? I can’t remember. I wonder what other people write on here. They say not to think while you write this, but who doesn’t. Our mind is continuously thinking. Strumming over ideas that flood our head. Lana Del Ray has just come on.
I wonder what people do measure. I dare say people would measure how much they like someone, how long their thumbs are, how plain their dress sense is and what not. Measure how much money someone has, or how much money they have. Money is shit though, so there is no space here to write about that plastic stuff. Or paper, if your a yankee.
because you did this you know the hight or weight of something
I stood there waiting, in such a panic. I thought I could feel a sweat drop, crawling down from my frow. But nothing. A built man in a grey pin stripped suit came out.
He saw right through me, measured me …up….down. God was my fly undone?
Between two lungs
Our air was poured into itself
Silently turning into the blood in our veins
Erupting in the flowers of our hands
i measured my papers and then came the time when i had to draw in it…it was tough..i couldn’t decide what to draw.this was my last chance to make it up to him and yet i was all blank.why?what happend to me!
measured by the pain in my heart, i feel your breath against my neck, but my mind has wandered, i’ve lost myself in your eyes, and i can no longer see the light, i miss how things were, i miss what we had, and now i lose my self once more.
I measured the night by the slamming of doors and the smell of rain throwing itself all about, onto grass and trees, into and through windows.
I measured his temperature. 106 degrees.
time is measured
just like fear
but is fear endless?
only time will tell.
fear and loathing
time and space
endless, endless, endless
I frantically measured the time, racing againgt a hope that one day, I could fill a page in merely a second, lor sixty of them. My life depended on this one experiecnce, as if by a
I measured a spoonful of sugar for the cake batter. I didn’t think it would be nearly enough, as I am a sugar-holic, and, well, it’s not like I’ve ever experienced a sugar-high before… so, I added yet another spoonful, probably much to my own mother’s demise. Luckily for me, she didn’t see. So, one sugary battered cake, coming right up!
in math class i measured the world and all the numbers involved. the magic of tubes and flasks, bundled up in a small class and didnt seem to cover it all. it didn’t grasp what was being measured not even in the simplest of terms, numbers being too restrictive for the world.
When its all said and done do you think it will be enough? If God measured your sins by your genuine attempts to make a positive difference in the world do you think he’d open the gates and let you into Heaven???
measure flour and eggs and sugar and make something
um yeah it’s like this right now because sometimes to keep getting better you have to keep going even if you don’t know what you’re doing..
I measured my love this time
Because I did not want to lose it all
I measured my smiles this day
So that I did not recklessly throw them away
I was and will always be
Bound in the joyful sorrow of measurements
defined
I don’t understand the point of this…what exactly am I writing? Everything in our world is measured; it is how we, as humans, struggle to make sense of the world we live in.
my love for you is measured in heartbreaks, memories and lack of sleep.
If I were to measure time it would not be with grains of sand or by counting one by one upon the hands of a man. Rather I would keep tally with more important things, like each breath you take or the shifting of the seas.
I measured the hours and the minutes and they passed by in front of me. Nodding off, I couldn’t quite clearly see the clock that became blurrier and blurrier. It’s been too long. that’s all I know.
A machine created to measure love? What would that look like? It would have two pink seats wired up to a machine, humming and buzzing. There would be a suction cup to place on your heart, that would take out all your love and enter in into the machine. It would fill up tubes, like water or sand, and indicate your love for the person sitting next to you. What an invention that would be
I’m not a ruler kind of guy myself. Measuring is difficult because it’s relative, you see? What are you measuring against? What are you measuring for? Why measure at all?
a way for humans to rationally describe different numbers of things. This is a way people are able to control things. scientific. modernist thinking. time, age, height weight, distance. measure is arbitrary.
I carefully measured the flour. lined in up in the cup, and cut it off with the knife. There. The boys in front of me were already putting their cajke in the oven, and I was only up to measuring, but theres was already baking.
In a perfect world,
He would have been mine from the start, and
She can have my ex.
My two gay friends could be together without scorn
And nobody would be in a hurry,
Since we live in a world sewn with punctuation.
I wouldn’t mind being a crutch and
The stars would be a bit brighter.
Music would play just a little louder
And the world would sing all at once.
I would always see the world in his eyes,
He would never feel distant
And he would know, with just a touch,
The amount of love I have for him.
He makes up a piece of what makes me up,
Even though the rush of day to day living is exhausting
Coming home to him, or waking up with him,
Those simple little things warm me
In the depression of winter.
Measured. Makes me think about math, considering I have a Calculus 2 test coming up in the next 24 hours that I should be studying for instead of doing this. But I enjoy this whole-heartedly. It’s not only an activity or a workout for the brain, it is something I do for daily enjoyment. Once a writer, always a writer.
Love can not be measured , Feelings can not be measured .. you suddenly feel it , live it.
How do I measure up in my kids eyes? Am I good enough? Or now that they are adults do they ask themselves why wasn’t Mom better or how in the world did mom manage all us kids and Dad too?
He whispers to me,
“How much do you love me?”
I say
” Dear, you cannot measure love..
But if I could compare how much I love you to anything, It would be the amount of stars in the sky, and the amount of butterflies that stir in my stomach whenever you walk in the room.”
What can be measured?
Time, the thickness of your coarse thighs, the length of your pudgy fingers.
No.
What can’t be measured?
Your kindness. Your personality. Your happiness.
You.
I felt that my worth was measured by my accomplishments in life. Did I pass or fail I have no idea. I hate to think that my worth would be summed up by what I had or had not accomplished.
As I measured the amount of time left in my life I realized how little there actually was. Don’t get me wrong 2,000 years is a long time but compared to the age of the cosmos it is nothing. To them I am still a speck of dust, a mere blip on the radar.
After we measured out the cocoa and butter and flour and sugar, we took a break because I inconceivably twisted my wrist while pulling the egg whisk out of the cramped drawer of cooking tools and utensils. Now Sadie was sidled up to me at the dining room table, as I applied a bag of frozen meatballs against my arm where the muscle was turning black and blue.
“You can say you were in a great cooking accident,” she declared with amusement.
As I measured the amount of time left in my life I realized how little it actually. Don’t get me wrong 2,000 years is a long time compared to how long humans use to live, but it is nothing when compared to the cosmos. I am still a speck of dust compared to the awe-inducing vastness of the universe.
i measured a bit of water tonight. i tried drinking the prebrewed coffee my grandfather consistently drinks. It doesn’t have that satisfying coffee quirk.
measured is a word when you measure cheese and cheese smells and lemons and geese and farts and lemon and geese and farts and grandmothers elucidating nostrils.
Time is measured in different ways. Sailors measure it with the watch on their wrist. Students measure it with the time of the old rundown clock on the wall. I measure it by the hours, minutes, seconds that I am away from you. That I don’t hear your voice. That I am not next to you. That I can’t hold your hand or brush my lips against your warm, smooth cheek. Time feels endless when I can’t be with you.
my love for you,
cannot be measured.
I’d do anything
and when i say anything,
I literally mean anything
for you
and all i ask for in return
is faith
in me
please give me strength
help me get through the tough parts
of life
give me a shoulder when i cry
make me feel better
please don’t abuse my love for you
I wouldn’t be able to take it
oh, heartache
how I hate you
you make me smile
and make everything better
all the time
i tend to freak out
simply because i’m so attached
don’t go
you give me chills
all the way through my spine
when you tell me you love me
when you laugh at my lousy jokes
i get giddy
i cannot stand the fact
of the thought
of you being with someone else
i’ll kill them.
pressured
treasured
leverd
measured by the way you think, its the way you act and breath its the way you like to interact in social settings.
It seems every joy and pain in life is measured. Nothing lasts forever. No happiness no pain no suffering lasts forever. You cannot measure happiness, or can you? Thee is a country not very well known that forgot about money. They measure the happiness of their people. Don’t believe me? look it up. Bhutan.