I soak up her love like a goddamned sponge. Whenever we’re together, I’m wetter and more syrupy than a bowl of concentrated sugar water. And I love every minute of it. Absolutely love it. As much as I love her.
I think, sitting in lab with you, that maybe I’ll get smarter by osmosis. Maybe when we talk together I’ll gain your self-confidence and ability to just not give a shit. Then I think maybe that’s the sort of thing that comes with time, and I feel young and stupid.
when I soak in a bathtub the one thing I miss most is the sponge. It’s not that I don’t get clean. It’s that the experience of getting clean is enhanced so much when a sponge is there.
A sponge? Are you kidding me? You can soak up blood with a sponge.. That gives me an Idea.
Sitting on the tiled floor, the beautiful read pooling at her feet, a sponge would have been perfect. Why hadn’t she thought about that before? If you’re going to die, at least die right.
sponge reminds me of the shower, because i use a sponge to shower. sponge also reminds me of spongebob square pants and i used to love that show, i still know its theme song, now its just kinda creepy..haha eww and sponge also makes me think of the color brown.
I absorbed it all. It was amazing; I was like a sponge. It was kinda scary, the things that hat did to me…it’s like it made me smarter, more clever, sharper…I wanted to see what would happen if I didn’t take it off.
swimmimg swimming in my bathtub. green rubber ducks all around. if you were an iceburg i’d be the titanic says one in a silly voice. the sponge has sunk, loaded with water until it hits my knee and bounces back, exploding to the surface with a glorious squelching sound.
Swiping the sponge over the tiles, she noticed that the red puddles had become red streaks, thin and sickly-looking. “Oh, yuck,” she groaned, making a face. “Now it looks like blood.
I feel like one sometimes. An immobile porifera, set adrift by the currents to roam around its surroundings, soaking in whatever it encounters. It’s fragile and has no real characteristics of its own — just a shell housing whatever gets injected into it.
all of your words and sayings and morals, sucked into me. everything i’d ever heard. i knew them now, they were there, i was swollen with who i was supposed to be.
spongebob. thats all i got. cleaning cause i got OCD…i think i have it. I’m not sure really. Except my room realllyyyy bothers me now because its messy. Oh yeah we’re talking about sponges…..umm
who lives in a pineapple under the sea? SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!!! A sponge is a big spongy thing. It is soft, and has airpocets. It comes in diffrent colours, and can be used for different things. Like carwashing.
Absorbing is constant with me. As I pass over surfaces and perforations that once held such certain information, I consume everything in my path. All of it now lies within me as I continue on my journey to the next. These places are left touched by my presence, cleansed of the lack there of beforehand.
she got frustrated and scrubbed ferociously with the sponge while trying to hold in her tears. “i dont understand how a thing like this could happen.” she cried over her shoulder.
“theres nothing we can do now but wait it out,” she felt his presence behind her and she tensed as he reached over her shoulder and took the sponge and dishes from her hands. “ill take care of this, you should go get some sleep.”
The dying cat lay there like a wet sponge. Examining it closely, Allison’s mother observed its breathing, which seemed to become more and more shallow and unsteady the longer they stood there. The creature opened its bleary eyes, and the headlights turned them into glowing orbs of white. Allison stood by the open driver’s side door, white as the cat’s eyes. She hadn’t seen it when it suddenly dashed onto the road.
Sponges. Things that absorb, things taken in. Something filled with calcium carbonate and yet able to support a great deal of life underneath the ocean.
Yellow, smushy, it rained down a stream of dirty water when she squeezed it over the sink. Her mom called for her to finish the dishes, so she quickly scrubbed the final delicate bowl, decorated with little blue flowers, and ran off to hear tonight’s story.
My baby sister is known for microwaving her food sans plate. She’ll just pop a slice of pizza down on the turn table and let it rip. She shouldn’t do that. It’s not sanitary. Our mother likes to disinfect the dish sponge by sticking that nasty old thing in the microwave and she doesn’t put it on a plate, either.
living under the sea. shooting forth its intestines. soaking up the debris of a day. pineapple under the sea. ariel and that lobster munching on his home.
So wait…I’m confused…after washing dishes, am I supposed to completely rinse the sponge out? or just leave stuff in there? I mean, it’s just soap, right? Can there be bacteria that grow in soap? Isn’t that the point of soap? Or have I finally stumbled upon the difference between ‘soap’ and ‘antibacterial soap’?
Spongebob heißt er. Nicht Spandschebob. Nein, andersrum. Ich hatte keine Ahnung, was Schwamm auf Englisch heißt. Erst recht nicht, wie man das Wort “sponge” ausspricht. Und sie wusste es. Natürlich.
“Sponges are the strangest things on the face of the planet. Don’t you think so? I mean, just look at it! It’s a water-soaking…you know what, nevermind.” He put the sponge back in the sink then grinned at me. “Pardon my strangeness, waking up after so long is a bit…disorienting.”
Spongbob.
I can’t believe the first thing I think of is spongebob. I suppose this makes me immature? Childish? Silly?
Well, I’m 18 years old, I think of spongebob and I’m proud to say it.
I am a sponge. I am young, moldable, pliable, and I will soak up everything that is told to me.
Mathematics: I remember. Sciences, I also remember. English, Social Studies. But I also remember the other things.
The insults, the horrible things said to me and those around me. The physical and emotional bruises, cuts, burns, will soak into my pores; and I can never forget them.
I never forget a thing. My girlfriend says that is freaky. I just soak up everything, words, figures, tidbits. I even remember who you were with last night. I am sure you want me to forget, but I never forget anything.
sponge sits on the sink
don’t think, i don’t think
there’s water nearby
maybe i will cry
or spill my sweat into the sponge
then i shall take the mighty lunge
At 3, she’s a sponge for knowledge, soaking up what she sees and hears around her. At times, I want to shield her ears — “Don’t listen to that!” — but I don’t. She’ll learn to negotiate the world, good and bad, loving and bigoted, brilliant and idiotic, true and so very, very false.
sitting at the bottom of the sea, slight movements with the tug and pull of the tow, he sits and waits for something, anything to come along. absorption is his daily regimen, never tiring only enduring. maybe today will be different…
I find myself falling into the trap of absorbing everything that comes across my path. What happens when we don’t filter. What happens when we accept everything and reject nothing. There’s beauty in that.
She was like a sponge. A porous, defenseless, non-thinking being who soaked up all she could to keep herself going. She’d take in the hate, love, jealousy, tears, and treasure it like a gift. The attention meant everything to her, she couldn’t get by without it.
When I was younger, I used to have a powerful urge every time I saw a sponge, to eat it. One time, when a girl called Carol who lived across the road from me came to my house to play, I ate a bit of the bath sponge in my parent’s bathroom. I was scared for the rest of the day that I would die from doing so.
Sponges are gross.. I often think about the episode of Seinfeld when Elaine is talking about her sponge and she goes into jerrys apartment and is talking about it to the virgin Jerry is dating. It’s pretty funny
I soak up her love like a goddamned sponge. Whenever we’re together, I’m wetter and more syrupy than a bowl of concentrated sugar water. And I love every minute of it. Absolutely love it. As much as I love her.
Every time I look at you I see a sponge, sucking the life from me, into you.
I think, sitting in lab with you, that maybe I’ll get smarter by osmosis. Maybe when we talk together I’ll gain your self-confidence and ability to just not give a shit. Then I think maybe that’s the sort of thing that comes with time, and I feel young and stupid.
Sponge man! I can’t believe how people could create a hero out of a sponge and become so successful.
when I soak in a bathtub the one thing I miss most is the sponge. It’s not that I don’t get clean. It’s that the experience of getting clean is enhanced so much when a sponge is there.
A sponge? Are you kidding me? You can soak up blood with a sponge.. That gives me an Idea.
Sitting on the tiled floor, the beautiful read pooling at her feet, a sponge would have been perfect. Why hadn’t she thought about that before? If you’re going to die, at least die right.
sponge reminds me of the shower, because i use a sponge to shower. sponge also reminds me of spongebob square pants and i used to love that show, i still know its theme song, now its just kinda creepy..haha eww and sponge also makes me think of the color brown.
I absorbed it all. It was amazing; I was like a sponge. It was kinda scary, the things that hat did to me…it’s like it made me smarter, more clever, sharper…I wanted to see what would happen if I didn’t take it off.
swimmimg swimming in my bathtub. green rubber ducks all around. if you were an iceburg i’d be the titanic says one in a silly voice. the sponge has sunk, loaded with water until it hits my knee and bounces back, exploding to the surface with a glorious squelching sound.
Swiping the sponge over the tiles, she noticed that the red puddles had become red streaks, thin and sickly-looking. “Oh, yuck,” she groaned, making a face. “Now it looks like blood.
they are used to wash, yes i love them, but the only one I real like is the yellow!
I feel like one sometimes. An immobile porifera, set adrift by the currents to roam around its surroundings, soaking in whatever it encounters. It’s fragile and has no real characteristics of its own — just a shell housing whatever gets injected into it.
I’ve never really enjoyed using bread as a utensil, unless it’s to sponge up olive oil and balsamic.
i felt your words around me. they surrounded me.
all of your words and sayings and morals, sucked into me. everything i’d ever heard. i knew them now, they were there, i was swollen with who i was supposed to be.
i went home to clean the kitchen and all i had was a dirty sponge. i need to get a new one.
spongebob. thats all i got. cleaning cause i got OCD…i think i have it. I’m not sure really. Except my room realllyyyy bothers me now because its messy. Oh yeah we’re talking about sponges…..umm
who lives in a pineapple under the sea? SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!!! A sponge is a big spongy thing. It is soft, and has airpocets. It comes in diffrent colours, and can be used for different things. Like carwashing.
Absorbing is constant with me. As I pass over surfaces and perforations that once held such certain information, I consume everything in my path. All of it now lies within me as I continue on my journey to the next. These places are left touched by my presence, cleansed of the lack there of beforehand.
she got frustrated and scrubbed ferociously with the sponge while trying to hold in her tears. “i dont understand how a thing like this could happen.” she cried over her shoulder.
“theres nothing we can do now but wait it out,” she felt his presence behind her and she tensed as he reached over her shoulder and took the sponge and dishes from her hands. “ill take care of this, you should go get some sleep.”
The dying cat lay there like a wet sponge. Examining it closely, Allison’s mother observed its breathing, which seemed to become more and more shallow and unsteady the longer they stood there. The creature opened its bleary eyes, and the headlights turned them into glowing orbs of white. Allison stood by the open driver’s side door, white as the cat’s eyes. She hadn’t seen it when it suddenly dashed onto the road.
Sponges. Things that absorb, things taken in. Something filled with calcium carbonate and yet able to support a great deal of life underneath the ocean.
Yellow, smushy, it rained down a stream of dirty water when she squeezed it over the sink. Her mom called for her to finish the dishes, so she quickly scrubbed the final delicate bowl, decorated with little blue flowers, and ran off to hear tonight’s story.
My baby sister is known for microwaving her food sans plate. She’ll just pop a slice of pizza down on the turn table and let it rip. She shouldn’t do that. It’s not sanitary. Our mother likes to disinfect the dish sponge by sticking that nasty old thing in the microwave and she doesn’t put it on a plate, either.
living under the sea. shooting forth its intestines. soaking up the debris of a day. pineapple under the sea. ariel and that lobster munching on his home.
So wait…I’m confused…after washing dishes, am I supposed to completely rinse the sponge out? or just leave stuff in there? I mean, it’s just soap, right? Can there be bacteria that grow in soap? Isn’t that the point of soap? Or have I finally stumbled upon the difference between ‘soap’ and ‘antibacterial soap’?
Soak it up – like a sponge
Be it knowledge,
The sun’s rays,
The day,
Perhaps the night,
Love, laughter
People,
Take in all you can
Spongebob heißt er. Nicht Spandschebob. Nein, andersrum. Ich hatte keine Ahnung, was Schwamm auf Englisch heißt. Erst recht nicht, wie man das Wort “sponge” ausspricht. Und sie wusste es. Natürlich.
“Sponges are the strangest things on the face of the planet. Don’t you think so? I mean, just look at it! It’s a water-soaking…you know what, nevermind.” He put the sponge back in the sink then grinned at me. “Pardon my strangeness, waking up after so long is a bit…disorienting.”
Spongbob.
I can’t believe the first thing I think of is spongebob. I suppose this makes me immature? Childish? Silly?
Well, I’m 18 years old, I think of spongebob and I’m proud to say it.
God Bless the guy who invented it.
I am a sponge. I am young, moldable, pliable, and I will soak up everything that is told to me.
Mathematics: I remember. Sciences, I also remember. English, Social Studies. But I also remember the other things.
The insults, the horrible things said to me and those around me. The physical and emotional bruises, cuts, burns, will soak into my pores; and I can never forget them.
I never forget a thing. My girlfriend says that is freaky. I just soak up everything, words, figures, tidbits. I even remember who you were with last night. I am sure you want me to forget, but I never forget anything.
sponge sits on the sink
don’t think, i don’t think
there’s water nearby
maybe i will cry
or spill my sweat into the sponge
then i shall take the mighty lunge
At 3, she’s a sponge for knowledge, soaking up what she sees and hears around her. At times, I want to shield her ears — “Don’t listen to that!” — but I don’t. She’ll learn to negotiate the world, good and bad, loving and bigoted, brilliant and idiotic, true and so very, very false.
sitting at the bottom of the sea, slight movements with the tug and pull of the tow, he sits and waits for something, anything to come along. absorption is his daily regimen, never tiring only enduring. maybe today will be different…
I find myself falling into the trap of absorbing everything that comes across my path. What happens when we don’t filter. What happens when we accept everything and reject nothing. There’s beauty in that.
the sponge
cannot see
it can only absorb
sometimes yellow
it doesn’t matter
im almost out of time
the sponge is great
She was like a sponge. A porous, defenseless, non-thinking being who soaked up all she could to keep herself going. She’d take in the hate, love, jealousy, tears, and treasure it like a gift. The attention meant everything to her, she couldn’t get by without it.
When I was younger, I used to have a powerful urge every time I saw a sponge, to eat it. One time, when a girl called Carol who lived across the road from me came to my house to play, I ate a bit of the bath sponge in my parent’s bathroom. I was scared for the rest of the day that I would die from doing so.
Sponges are gross.. I often think about the episode of Seinfeld when Elaine is talking about her sponge and she goes into jerrys apartment and is talking about it to the virgin Jerry is dating. It’s pretty funny