I saw it on the end of teh sidewalk and decisded that it wasnt safe to cross. I know the type, its sticky sense of touch and vapid smell makes breathing very difficult. You want to just enbrace it but there is just no way to find its center. You just end up spinning around until it decideds to embrace you. That is just the start. We all know that it wouldnt make for a good story not to have a witch with a chip on her shoulder in the mix. I say let them eat moss and drink hops.
this thing, grey and leading long, wherever I want to go. Though, where I go seems to be only where the sidewalk leads me. not through the hills or places I feel I can’t go, this city is such a scary place.
walking down this cluttered sidewalk in the dark
no streetlights
no people
just me and my angry mind
grasping at straws
looking for some reason, some meaning
cracks abound
I fall through one by chance
and that is the end on my little journey
It was so hot the sidewalk burned my feet as I leapt and spun around, trying to keep the pain away. I suddenly hit a sliver of glass from some idiot’s broken bottle and let out a yelp as it sliced into my heel. Finally, I came to an unkempt lawn with crabgrass and weeds sprouting out of the cracks in the sidewalk next to it. The relief of being off the burning pavement was tempered by the searing pain and drops of blood that appeared when I wiggled the glass out of my foot.
well i was walking and a talking on the side walk i was thinking to consider using my side walk chalk to side walk talk, but then i saw a beautiful butterfly.
the sidewalks in this city are so damn icy. and why is that? because this is a university town and no one that lives here has time to sleep, let alone meticulously scrape ice off the sidewalk. Why doesn’t the city just do it for us? That’s how it worked in my hometown.
One day, when I was tearing down the street, I encountered a young woman named Katherine. I had to have sex with her right there and then. I simply couldn’t help my baser instincts. I, with unparalleled rapacity, forced myself on her and she, much to her credit, took in very good humour.
The sidewalk was cold and rough against his face. He lifted his head. Blood dripped down and formed a crescent on the sidewalk. He looked up just in time to see the boot covered-foot come in for another blow.
side walk is something on the side of the road whicih has the prupose of people walking on it for their own convenience so they dont get hit by cars. i once had an imaginary friend who i named sidewalk, little did i know that she was named after a long slab of concerte, even though i named her myself
i was walking down the sidewalk the other day when a man came barreling past me, knocking me over. he had a jacket slung over his shoulder and a coffee in his hand. when he helped me up, and we met gazes, i could tell that he was the one.
the side walk was cold i no longer could feel my legs teh brisk winter day was comming to a close, peoples lights were starting to turn off and dogs were starting to bark less, but my day wasnt over not yet anyways i still had much to do, and the long side walk was only the beginning.
I wish my neighborhood had more sidewalks so I could go runing or over busy streets so that you don’t have to wait and cross the street. My neighboor walks all over the sidewalk in front of my house on his cell phone basically screaming his business. most of which I don’t want to hear.
the sidewalk is next to the road. not for cars but for people. it is treded appon by many people, different people. none the same all different. no alike people though they all tred apon the same sidewalk in the same places. walk upon one sidewalk. it may be dirty or cracked but they all tred apon one sidewalk.
sidewalks remind me of being a child, playing with sidewalk chalk and doing hopscotch..or they remind me of cities, wondering the street. I love cities and I love the enormous amount of pavement that tends to surround and envelope you
i was walking down broad street on the sidewalk when i ran into my grandmother floating on a cloud, she said that she had come down from heavan and was here for a second day on earth, i thought that this was really cool and we proceded to walk down the sidewalk to city hall where along the way we had a very interesting conversation, one that i never could have had before with her.
Grey stuff that feet tread. Drunks bleed on it and cigarettes get snubbed out upon it. Broken glass and vomit on a friday night, disgruntled people stepping over the homeless person who sleeps on it. Carrier bags and rubbish, grime, dirt and poo.
i see people walk and it’s very crowdy. i picture New York streets, especially the times-square-thingie… and that’s it. a lot of people, grey suits, rainy and people trying to avoid eye-contact.
when i was in the back of the car, he just stood there, looking at me with his bold eyes… Staring like he cares, and what could I have done but run to him? I just did that and he vanished.
I walked through downtown Denver every day to get to work, and each morning I would pass by Grant and 13th and look down and smile. Someone had sprayed “dear concrete, stay strong” on the sidewalk under my feet. It always made me smile.
long and concrete and almost neverending, the sidewalk can take you anywhere you want to go it seems, and then suddenly it will end for no reason at all and there will be nothing.
Sidewalk covered in glass and ice. And salt, and my shoes are scraped on the soles. Purple soles, but they don’t hold, so the bottoms of my feet are beginning to burn. At least they sparkle. It’s a long walk to the bakery cafe on the corner, but I have to go there. There’s something there I need, and glass embedded in skin isn’t enough to stop it.
van and i like to take a nice stroll down the sidewalks in our neighborhood. we talk about life, about love, and about our passions and how we long to fulfill them… but as i have learned there is no future there is only now.
there once was a girl who was walking down a sidewalk. She ran into a cute little puppy and decided to take it home. She got the puppy to her house and named her Sidewalk love. She never had a better friend than what she found in that cute little dog. They lived happily ever after.
The sidewalk ends the same way it begins: unassumingly. It is constantly under your feet, patiently bearing you up as you walk to work, to school, to church. It is truly the thing that supports you, takes you everywhere you want to be
the sidewalk was really slippery. Sandy tried tottering along without falling but much to her dismay, she slipped and fell, bashing her left butt cheek against the hard pavement. The force of the blow made her pee her pants a little bit. She was frustrated because the entire reason she had gotten out of the car was to run to the bathroom before the job interview. She started to panic and stood up, brushing off the snow and looking at her black pants. The urine was hardly noticeable and her bladder was still full, so she took off again. Unfortunately, Sandy’s haste and lack of traction on her worn-out snow boots were not prepared for such a rapid departure and she immediately fell again, landing on her right butt cheek this time and forcing the remaining urine out of her bladder. As Sandy sat there, rubbing her sore bum and feeling the warmth of the urine against her legs and in contrast to the cold sidewalk and cold air, she sat there wondering if she should still go into the job interview that she had just driven four hours to attend. She had no change of clothing and no way to clean up but she couldn’t just turn around either. Would a mild case of incontinence keep her from getting the job of her dreams? **This is based on a true story.**
The sidewalk has always been a very special place for me – it’s where I learned to talk, to schmooze, to con people out of money so rightfully theirs.
The sidewalk is where I panhandled for spare change all day long and went home with half a grand. The sidewalk is where I told that old lady I needed $40 or my teeth would fall out.
The sidewalk was where I convinced that business exec to give me his Gucci coat so I could fight a dragon.
i was wal;king on the side wlk today when i saw 5dolars on the floor i wondered who was it but i just took my money left and spent it on a candy bar chips a soda and a lollli pop me and my mommy thought that we should give it back i told her too bad mom its my money dangit do i have to
chalk like little kids playing. Games of joy and simplicity. Chalk boards. Toy swords. War lords. How come whenever my mind wanders it goes for rhyming. Timing. Hyme.
i was awlking down the sidewalk and having a good time. I walked and walked and the sidewalk just seemed to never end. It goes on forever and forever. From city to city. Sidewalks must have taken a long time to make
I never walk on the sidewalk with you. Why should I? At two in the morning, I much prefer walking down the middle of the street. It gives me a feeling of control.
The sidewalk is what you walk on. In New York City, sometimes dogs walk on the sidewalk and get electrocuted because Con. Edison can’t figure out how to keep the electricity from running through it. Sometimes sidewalks can be concrete, and other times they can be asphalt. I love sidewalks.
Looking at the sidewalk while I’m walking turned out to be an easy way to (a) not get noticed and (b) not get where I was going. Particularly on the crowded NYC streets.
It took a while, and some growing up, before I learned to move from my hips, look straight ahead, and let other people move out of my way.
I was walking along the streets of Queens and passed a short, elderly woman on the sidewalk. She stopped me and asked if I happened to have some change I could spare. She was visibly upset and smelled as though she hadn’t showered in weeks. Yet her face was clean, washed from her tears.
Outside the coffee shop where I am drinking coffee, there are the footprints to dance the hokey pokey in the sidewalk. Who doesn’t know how to hokey pokey?
I walk on the sidewalk, looking at the cracks and contemplating the completion of the series of panels, and how it coincides with my life. Each square block of hand created rock is laid even and forms a pathway for us to walk upon. Is this life? Who has laid the rocks for me?
Walking down the sidewalk, I took a moment to stop at my favorite newsstand and pick up the paper. With naught but an off color joke to the guy at the stand, I was off to work. I weaved through the blocks, taking care never to touch sunlight for more than a second or two, and I made it in plenty of time. Work ho!
I saw it on the end of teh sidewalk and decisded that it wasnt safe to cross. I know the type, its sticky sense of touch and vapid smell makes breathing very difficult. You want to just enbrace it but there is just no way to find its center. You just end up spinning around until it decideds to embrace you. That is just the start. We all know that it wouldnt make for a good story not to have a witch with a chip on her shoulder in the mix. I say let them eat moss and drink hops.
this thing, grey and leading long, wherever I want to go. Though, where I go seems to be only where the sidewalk leads me. not through the hills or places I feel I can’t go, this city is such a scary place.
walking down this cluttered sidewalk in the dark
no streetlights
no people
just me and my angry mind
grasping at straws
looking for some reason, some meaning
cracks abound
I fall through one by chance
and that is the end on my little journey
It was so hot the sidewalk burned my feet as I leapt and spun around, trying to keep the pain away. I suddenly hit a sliver of glass from some idiot’s broken bottle and let out a yelp as it sliced into my heel. Finally, I came to an unkempt lawn with crabgrass and weeds sprouting out of the cracks in the sidewalk next to it. The relief of being off the burning pavement was tempered by the searing pain and drops of blood that appeared when I wiggled the glass out of my foot.
well i was walking and a talking on the side walk i was thinking to consider using my side walk chalk to side walk talk, but then i saw a beautiful butterfly.
the sidewalks in this city are so damn icy. and why is that? because this is a university town and no one that lives here has time to sleep, let alone meticulously scrape ice off the sidewalk. Why doesn’t the city just do it for us? That’s how it worked in my hometown.
One day, when I was tearing down the street, I encountered a young woman named Katherine. I had to have sex with her right there and then. I simply couldn’t help my baser instincts. I, with unparalleled rapacity, forced myself on her and she, much to her credit, took in very good humour.
The sidewalk was cold and rough against his face. He lifted his head. Blood dripped down and formed a crescent on the sidewalk. He looked up just in time to see the boot covered-foot come in for another blow.
side walk is something on the side of the road whicih has the prupose of people walking on it for their own convenience so they dont get hit by cars. i once had an imaginary friend who i named sidewalk, little did i know that she was named after a long slab of concerte, even though i named her myself
i was walking down the sidewalk the other day when a man came barreling past me, knocking me over. he had a jacket slung over his shoulder and a coffee in his hand. when he helped me up, and we met gazes, i could tell that he was the one.
ha.
the side walk was cold i no longer could feel my legs teh brisk winter day was comming to a close, peoples lights were starting to turn off and dogs were starting to bark less, but my day wasnt over not yet anyways i still had much to do, and the long side walk was only the beginning.
I wish my neighborhood had more sidewalks so I could go runing or over busy streets so that you don’t have to wait and cross the street. My neighboor walks all over the sidewalk in front of my house on his cell phone basically screaming his business. most of which I don’t want to hear.
I don’t believe in sidewalks ’cause they tell me where to go.
a side walk is something you can walk on next to the street. It is not as dangerous because you do not have to worry about getting hit by a car.
the sidewalk is next to the road. not for cars but for people. it is treded appon by many people, different people. none the same all different. no alike people though they all tred apon the same sidewalk in the same places. walk upon one sidewalk. it may be dirty or cracked but they all tred apon one sidewalk.
sidewalks remind me of being a child, playing with sidewalk chalk and doing hopscotch..or they remind me of cities, wondering the street. I love cities and I love the enormous amount of pavement that tends to surround and envelope you
i was walking down broad street on the sidewalk when i ran into my grandmother floating on a cloud, she said that she had come down from heavan and was here for a second day on earth, i thought that this was really cool and we proceded to walk down the sidewalk to city hall where along the way we had a very interesting conversation, one that i never could have had before with her.
Grey stuff that feet tread. Drunks bleed on it and cigarettes get snubbed out upon it. Broken glass and vomit on a friday night, disgruntled people stepping over the homeless person who sleeps on it. Carrier bags and rubbish, grime, dirt and poo.
i see people walk and it’s very crowdy. i picture New York streets, especially the times-square-thingie… and that’s it. a lot of people, grey suits, rainy and people trying to avoid eye-contact.
when i was in the back of the car, he just stood there, looking at me with his bold eyes… Staring like he cares, and what could I have done but run to him? I just did that and he vanished.
I walked through downtown Denver every day to get to work, and each morning I would pass by Grant and 13th and look down and smile. Someone had sprayed “dear concrete, stay strong” on the sidewalk under my feet. It always made me smile.
long and concrete and almost neverending, the sidewalk can take you anywhere you want to go it seems, and then suddenly it will end for no reason at all and there will be nothing.
Sidewalk covered in glass and ice. And salt, and my shoes are scraped on the soles. Purple soles, but they don’t hold, so the bottoms of my feet are beginning to burn. At least they sparkle. It’s a long walk to the bakery cafe on the corner, but I have to go there. There’s something there I need, and glass embedded in skin isn’t enough to stop it.
van and i like to take a nice stroll down the sidewalks in our neighborhood. we talk about life, about love, and about our passions and how we long to fulfill them… but as i have learned there is no future there is only now.
there once was a girl who was walking down a sidewalk. She ran into a cute little puppy and decided to take it home. She got the puppy to her house and named her Sidewalk love. She never had a better friend than what she found in that cute little dog. They lived happily ever after.
The sidewalk ends the same way it begins: unassumingly. It is constantly under your feet, patiently bearing you up as you walk to work, to school, to church. It is truly the thing that supports you, takes you everywhere you want to be
the sidewalk was really slippery. Sandy tried tottering along without falling but much to her dismay, she slipped and fell, bashing her left butt cheek against the hard pavement. The force of the blow made her pee her pants a little bit. She was frustrated because the entire reason she had gotten out of the car was to run to the bathroom before the job interview. She started to panic and stood up, brushing off the snow and looking at her black pants. The urine was hardly noticeable and her bladder was still full, so she took off again. Unfortunately, Sandy’s haste and lack of traction on her worn-out snow boots were not prepared for such a rapid departure and she immediately fell again, landing on her right butt cheek this time and forcing the remaining urine out of her bladder. As Sandy sat there, rubbing her sore bum and feeling the warmth of the urine against her legs and in contrast to the cold sidewalk and cold air, she sat there wondering if she should still go into the job interview that she had just driven four hours to attend. She had no change of clothing and no way to clean up but she couldn’t just turn around either. Would a mild case of incontinence keep her from getting the job of her dreams? **This is based on a true story.**
The sidewalk has always been a very special place for me – it’s where I learned to talk, to schmooze, to con people out of money so rightfully theirs.
The sidewalk is where I panhandled for spare change all day long and went home with half a grand. The sidewalk is where I told that old lady I needed $40 or my teeth would fall out.
The sidewalk was where I convinced that business exec to give me his Gucci coat so I could fight a dragon.
Yeah, that sidewalk learned me pretty good.
i was wal;king on the side wlk today when i saw 5dolars on the floor i wondered who was it but i just took my money left and spent it on a candy bar chips a soda and a lollli pop me and my mommy thought that we should give it back i told her too bad mom its my money dangit do i have to
chalk like little kids playing. Games of joy and simplicity. Chalk boards. Toy swords. War lords. How come whenever my mind wanders it goes for rhyming. Timing. Hyme.
i was awlking down the sidewalk and having a good time. I walked and walked and the sidewalk just seemed to never end. It goes on forever and forever. From city to city. Sidewalks must have taken a long time to make
I never walk on the sidewalk with you. Why should I? At two in the morning, I much prefer walking down the middle of the street. It gives me a feeling of control.
today, i don’t wanna stay by the sidewalk. I never wanted.
The sidewalk is what you walk on. In New York City, sometimes dogs walk on the sidewalk and get electrocuted because Con. Edison can’t figure out how to keep the electricity from running through it. Sometimes sidewalks can be concrete, and other times they can be asphalt. I love sidewalks.
The sidewalk didn’t so much end as it cracked then broke up, trailing off into thousands of concrete pieced in the mud.
Looking at the sidewalk while I’m walking turned out to be an easy way to (a) not get noticed and (b) not get where I was going. Particularly on the crowded NYC streets.
It took a while, and some growing up, before I learned to move from my hips, look straight ahead, and let other people move out of my way.
I was walking along the streets of Queens and passed a short, elderly woman on the sidewalk. She stopped me and asked if I happened to have some change I could spare. She was visibly upset and smelled as though she hadn’t showered in weeks. Yet her face was clean, washed from her tears.
Outside the coffee shop where I am drinking coffee, there are the footprints to dance the hokey pokey in the sidewalk. Who doesn’t know how to hokey pokey?
I walk on the sidewalk, looking at the cracks and contemplating the completion of the series of panels, and how it coincides with my life. Each square block of hand created rock is laid even and forms a pathway for us to walk upon. Is this life? Who has laid the rocks for me?
Walking down the sidewalk, I took a moment to stop at my favorite newsstand and pick up the paper. With naught but an off color joke to the guy at the stand, I was off to work. I weaved through the blocks, taking care never to touch sunlight for more than a second or two, and I made it in plenty of time. Work ho!