the rain pours down from the sky. the water pours out of the vase. it makes me want to pour my heart out onto the floor. what’s wrong with that? it makes me human. pour me now.
“You were worth it”, she said, pouring me a cup of tea before filling her own cup. How could I ever repay her? Her lips formed a slight smile. When our eyes met, hers were full w/ reassurance. That too, she poured forth.
Pour me another shot. Pour me another brewski. Alcohol is the worst way to unwind. Every day I tell myself I’m done drinking because it is only fun until it’s not fun anymore. And it’s not. Every night I get drunk I end up crying and wake up feeling more depressed than ever. Not to mention my friends and I fight like cats and dogs. Oh no. I’ve become that drunk girl. Save me.
It was pouring down rain, I like to pour water and drink it
pour me….a drink! How to pour your heart out….pour to the pouring pour can’t think of anything else to write about it. way too long
I pour my heart out in everything I do. whether its my facebook status or the things i wear. I try to express myself in any outlet. I just wish that more people would pour their hearts out with me. This world needs more passion.
Pour a cup of tea for me and a cup for yourself too. Pour a little cream in that tea with a lump of sugar to two. Pour yourself some cereal topped with bananas or strawberries too. Pour yourself in to the chair and enjoy these sweet treats. Pour over the newspaper.
pouring everything into the lovely little sieve that is me….
making me into a vessel and trying to get me to accept pessimism.
I won’t I won’t I won’t. I will fight for my right to be a stupid idealist.
i poured it out. if fell all down upon my feet. closing my lip i tried to recall the fluid lost to the outer world. Dying i was. Bleeding I was.
My brain leaked out my nose and i was. Dead.
i once stabbed a little girl in the hand with a rusty butter knife for trying to steal my chocolate milk during recess. she cried about it but i told her that if she said anything to anyone i would kill her family starting with her dog, the blood poured all over the sandbox but it was such a pretty color.
pour it into my mouth, and then i want you to slap me with your penis and ass rape my children while fingering the neighbor’s llama. this sounds like a wonderful and erotic pleasure, oh and while you’re on the subkect could you tie my shoes for me ?
Pouring is so intense. I always like to hold the pitcher I pour kool-aid from really high above the glass to see how far I can go up until I make a mess. I always make a mess, so this is a stupid process…don’t try it.
like a drink. something good from a spout. personally i like water. it’s the drink of life. so pour some life into me because it seems like i don’t have any anymore. pour down some rain. it’s been rainging here for days. i think pour is exactly how i want to be. i want my love to pour out.
She watched the milk pour into the glass. She stared in anticipation at the glass of milk and the warm chocolate chip cookies. The smell filled her senses, making her stomach rumble and her mouth water.
ever pour a nice glass of milk? makes you feel really good when it pours smoothly, but feels terrible when it pours harshly. If that makes any sense at all :S
a pour is something smooth, no bubbles, no turbulence… just pure liquid coming out of something larger. maybe some little folds in the stream, but still smooth, still pure. pure, pour, pure.
A pitcher tips the crystalline water into my glass as I sit there and watch. The waitress saunters away to another table, but for some reason, the moment stayed with me, that small connection we had. Would we ever meet again? Will she remember me when she goes home at night? What is this girl, who poured me my drink, like when she’s alone?
i want to pour the rain from the sky into a bath and soak in it so I can be part of the sky. I think that’s the only way because I can’t fly like she can, and you know he’s always loved the impossible.
The rain poured down from above, as it had so many times since the creation of the world, and as it poured, the old man poured himself a cup of coffee, black as usual. He reclined in his chair in front of the fire, scratching his dog’s ears, looking with empty eyes at the equally empty chair beside him.
Pouring. That great right of passage. In every seven year-old’s heart, there is that secret longing to be the one to pour the lemonade at their own lemonade stand, and not just have their Mummy do it. A right of passage. A combination of hand size and dextarity.
the glass appears as if it was half empty. like a half empty person, already used and drunk out of. it doesnt mean that the liquid itself wasnt good, just that the liquid was too much to handle. like someone cant handle the other half of the glass and uses just what they need to fuffil their thrist, leaving the glass alone and having to fend for itself.
i pour water all the time out of my canteen into a flower patch to make it grow. i do it because it makes the earth a better place. if everyone did what i do we wouldn’t have to go to heaven because we’d already be there.
the glass appears as if it was half empty. like a half empty person, already used and drunk out of. it doesnt mean that the liquid itself wasnt good, just that the liquid was too much to handle. like someone cant handle the other half of the glass and uses just what they need to fuffil their thrist, leaving the glass alone and having to fend for itself.
i poured the water over his face as the blood ran down his checks. it reminded me of his tears flowing as i had seen the night before. as sad as it sounded i enjoyed seeing him in pain because it made me feel less vulnerable and more as if we were on the same plane.
I am pouring out the poor; on the rotten streets they appear to fit in. I am but the hesitant man who seeks solace in the comforting gazes of others so pour out my soul and belong to the old. Ah is the blanks. Simply elegantly refining the old into something new. I cannot, but I reject that and I can.
I will pour the drink into the glass. i love to pour out the water on to the ground. I hate it when people pour things in my drink. I want to pour hot lava down your shirt. Do you like pouring the
I pour the milk over the cereal and crammed it into my mouth before it got a chance to get soggy. It was going to be a long day, and soggy cereal was not going to get it off on the wrong foot. I wouldn’t allow it.
pour some sugar on me
the rain pours down from the sky. the water pours out of the vase. it makes me want to pour my heart out onto the floor. what’s wrong with that? it makes me human. pour me now.
“You were worth it”, she said, pouring me a cup of tea before filling her own cup. How could I ever repay her? Her lips formed a slight smile. When our eyes met, hers were full w/ reassurance. That too, she poured forth.
I want to pour my feelings into a pitcher and make you drink it. So that you can feel how I do and never hurt someone the way that you have hurt me.
Pour me another shot. Pour me another brewski. Alcohol is the worst way to unwind. Every day I tell myself I’m done drinking because it is only fun until it’s not fun anymore. And it’s not. Every night I get drunk I end up crying and wake up feeling more depressed than ever. Not to mention my friends and I fight like cats and dogs. Oh no. I’ve become that drunk girl. Save me.
It was pouring down rain, I like to pour water and drink it
pour me….a drink! How to pour your heart out….pour to the pouring pour can’t think of anything else to write about it. way too long
I pour my heart out in everything I do. whether its my facebook status or the things i wear. I try to express myself in any outlet. I just wish that more people would pour their hearts out with me. This world needs more passion.
Pour a cup of tea for me and a cup for yourself too. Pour a little cream in that tea with a lump of sugar to two. Pour yourself some cereal topped with bananas or strawberries too. Pour yourself in to the chair and enjoy these sweet treats. Pour over the newspaper.
pouring everything into the lovely little sieve that is me….
making me into a vessel and trying to get me to accept pessimism.
I won’t I won’t I won’t. I will fight for my right to be a stupid idealist.
I poured myself a glass of chocolate milk and reminisced about my childhood, when calories didn’t matter.
i poured it out. if fell all down upon my feet. closing my lip i tried to recall the fluid lost to the outer world. Dying i was. Bleeding I was.
My brain leaked out my nose and i was. Dead.
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i once stabbed a little girl in the hand with a rusty butter knife for trying to steal my chocolate milk during recess. she cried about it but i told her that if she said anything to anyone i would kill her family starting with her dog, the blood poured all over the sandbox but it was such a pretty color.
pour it into my mouth, and then i want you to slap me with your penis and ass rape my children while fingering the neighbor’s llama. this sounds like a wonderful and erotic pleasure, oh and while you’re on the subkect could you tie my shoes for me ?
“pour some sugar on me, in the name of love”
Pouring is so intense. I always like to hold the pitcher I pour kool-aid from really high above the glass to see how far I can go up until I make a mess. I always make a mess, so this is a stupid process…don’t try it.
the rain pours out of tiny spouts that once emptied, run spilling down, filling the long narrow cobbles of the street.
like a drink. something good from a spout. personally i like water. it’s the drink of life. so pour some life into me because it seems like i don’t have any anymore. pour down some rain. it’s been rainging here for days. i think pour is exactly how i want to be. i want my love to pour out.
She watched the milk pour into the glass. She stared in anticipation at the glass of milk and the warm chocolate chip cookies. The smell filled her senses, making her stomach rumble and her mouth water.
Pored the honey into the pot, it evaporates and the liquid is rained down. We all live in the honey so why not act it?
when i was young i was poor so i used to poor beer at hte bar for money…this fulligillactiving
ever pour a nice glass of milk? makes you feel really good when it pours smoothly, but feels terrible when it pours harshly. If that makes any sense at all :S
a pour is something smooth, no bubbles, no turbulence… just pure liquid coming out of something larger. maybe some little folds in the stream, but still smooth, still pure. pure, pour, pure.
A pitcher tips the crystalline water into my glass as I sit there and watch. The waitress saunters away to another table, but for some reason, the moment stayed with me, that small connection we had. Would we ever meet again? Will she remember me when she goes home at night? What is this girl, who poured me my drink, like when she’s alone?
I have poured the poison into his milk. Do I give it or not?
rain rain go away, screw this I wanna go watch movies
milk in a cup
waterfall
like
cascade
falls down
too late
because
its all
used
up
ha
nope
i want to pour the rain from the sky into a bath and soak in it so I can be part of the sky. I think that’s the only way because I can’t fly like she can, and you know he’s always loved the impossible.
The rain poured down from above, as it had so many times since the creation of the world, and as it poured, the old man poured himself a cup of coffee, black as usual. He reclined in his chair in front of the fire, scratching his dog’s ears, looking with empty eyes at the equally empty chair beside him.
Pouring. That great right of passage. In every seven year-old’s heart, there is that secret longing to be the one to pour the lemonade at their own lemonade stand, and not just have their Mummy do it. A right of passage. A combination of hand size and dextarity.
the glass appears as if it was half empty. like a half empty person, already used and drunk out of. it doesnt mean that the liquid itself wasnt good, just that the liquid was too much to handle. like someone cant handle the other half of the glass and uses just what they need to fuffil their thrist, leaving the glass alone and having to fend for itself.
i poured out my heart to you for what? for nothing. so u can pour her heart out about some other girl. well thats okay cause someday it will happen.
i pour water all the time out of my canteen into a flower patch to make it grow. i do it because it makes the earth a better place. if everyone did what i do we wouldn’t have to go to heaven because we’d already be there.
the glass appears as if it was half empty. like a half empty person, already used and drunk out of. it doesnt mean that the liquid itself wasnt good, just that the liquid was too much to handle. like someone cant handle the other half of the glass and uses just what they need to fuffil their thrist, leaving the glass alone and having to fend for itself.
i poured the water over his face as the blood ran down his checks. it reminded me of his tears flowing as i had seen the night before. as sad as it sounded i enjoyed seeing him in pain because it made me feel less vulnerable and more as if we were on the same plane.
I am pouring out the poor; on the rotten streets they appear to fit in. I am but the hesitant man who seeks solace in the comforting gazes of others so pour out my soul and belong to the old. Ah is the blanks. Simply elegantly refining the old into something new. I cannot, but I reject that and I can.
soup to the cattle.
I will pour the drink into the glass. i love to pour out the water on to the ground. I hate it when people pour things in my drink. I want to pour hot lava down your shirt. Do you like pouring the
I pour the milk over the cereal and crammed it into my mouth before it got a chance to get soggy. It was going to be a long day, and soggy cereal was not going to get it off on the wrong foot. I wouldn’t allow it.