the floor was tiled in a ligth blueish grey color. I remember my mother picking it out when we moved into the house. What an UGLY color but whatever made her happy. she was sick so we had to do what she wanted. you know? you dont ever want to let someone down. now i love those tiled floors. they remind me of her. its the only memory i have left.
…floors of a kitched wrapped in stone and metal… you see it and it feels somewhat serene. You don’t know why. The smell of cookies and pie envelops your senses.
He tiled the bathroom with a kind of grace. His sense of beauty and balance was unparralled in the construction trade. His boss knew it. His wife knew it. But he was still teased and regarded as inefficient by his fellow workers.
The kitchen has blue streaming across its surface, and this is why the blood looked so beautiful that night. It was the deadliest shade of crimson that that frank had ever seen. His favorite part of his job was watching how the splatters created little Jackson Pollock’s across gaudy floor patterns.
Tiled across the walls are ceramic triangles of vibrant colour. It’s hideous, but makes me think of home, my mothers awful taste. Odd how something so nasty can make you feel so happy…
I am tiled..no actually I am so tired that I can’t even pronounce the word correctly. I’ve been up for days waiting to hear the test results. My destiny is unknown . I don’t know weather I should laugh or cry..should I tell my friends?
and there on the floor, the tiled floor cool and grouted, I lay my head and forgot about everything but those esophageal muscles working in reverse, bringing up everything that had once gone down, everything clenched then release, and the small moment of relief just then.
tiled. sometimes i have a tiled background for a wallpaper. sometimes i wish my family was classy enough to use tiled floors. we have shitty floors in my house.
It wasnt long before i realised the tiled floor was slippery with my blood. The ultimate irony. To go seeking death and meet in with eyes closed and mind uncomprehending.
The bathroom floor was tiled in a blue and white china pattern, reminiscent of the tea set that i recieved from my mother as a child. That’s nice. What a perfect time to think of my mother, as I am face down on the bathroom floor.
Tiled. Strange, I just played a game called “Tiled” on my cellphone just an hour ago. It was really hard, and because it tested my visual ability, and I guess I really sucked at visualising. Tiled. Totally tiled. Whatever.
I hate my master bathroom. It was decorated by old folks who decorated like they were retired in FL. I really hate the tile and if I had my way I would blow up the bathroom and have it all retiled. Maybe one day if Kelly ever wins the lottery, if not I have to live with it.
the kitchen is not tiled but my life is with emotions that i don’t understand. love is missing from all the tiles in my life. I have been tiled into thinking that no other man is capable of loving me
the floor was tiled in a ligth blueish grey color. I remember my mother picking it out when we moved into the house. What an UGLY color but whatever made her happy. she was sick so we had to do what she wanted. you know? you dont ever want to let someone down. now i love those tiled floors. they remind me of her. its the only memory i have left.
…floors of a kitched wrapped in stone and metal… you see it and it feels somewhat serene. You don’t know why. The smell of cookies and pie envelops your senses.
He tiled the bathroom with a kind of grace. His sense of beauty and balance was unparralled in the construction trade. His boss knew it. His wife knew it. But he was still teased and regarded as inefficient by his fellow workers.
The kitchen has blue streaming across its surface, and this is why the blood looked so beautiful that night. It was the deadliest shade of crimson that that frank had ever seen. His favorite part of his job was watching how the splatters created little Jackson Pollock’s across gaudy floor patterns.
The floor… I can’t see the tiles anymore… they have just vanished beneath my feet and all that’s left… I could not even begin to describe.
How do I leave this behind me…
Tiled across the walls are ceramic triangles of vibrant colour. It’s hideous, but makes me think of home, my mothers awful taste. Odd how something so nasty can make you feel so happy…
I am tiled..no actually I am so tired that I can’t even pronounce the word correctly. I’ve been up for days waiting to hear the test results. My destiny is unknown . I don’t know weather I should laugh or cry..should I tell my friends?
“Those are pennies,” she said. I nodded. She looked at me and frowned a little. “I thought it was, I don’t know, copper or something.”
“Pennies are made out of copper,” I said.
“Shut up, you know what I mean.”
“No,” I said, “I really don’t.” And as I said it I realized I hadn’t known what she meant for months.
and there on the floor, the tiled floor cool and grouted, I lay my head and forgot about everything but those esophageal muscles working in reverse, bringing up everything that had once gone down, everything clenched then release, and the small moment of relief just then.
tiled. sometimes i have a tiled background for a wallpaper. sometimes i wish my family was classy enough to use tiled floors. we have shitty floors in my house.
as she kneels down
clutching her stomach in agony
she lays her cheeck down
upon the cool, tiled floor
as everything fades to black
marble tiled floor of a house. cat eating scraps from the older gentleman who owns it. He is alone, a widow. He likes being plain.
It wasnt long before i realised the tiled floor was slippery with my blood. The ultimate irony. To go seeking death and meet in with eyes closed and mind uncomprehending.
The bathroom floor was tiled in a blue and white china pattern, reminiscent of the tea set that i recieved from my mother as a child. That’s nice. What a perfect time to think of my mother, as I am face down on the bathroom floor.
Tiled. Strange, I just played a game called “Tiled” on my cellphone just an hour ago. It was really hard, and because it tested my visual ability, and I guess I really sucked at visualising. Tiled. Totally tiled. Whatever.
“I tiled you, motherfucker!” Max said, squeezing the sweat from his hat like a washcloth.
Norman stared at the floor, silent. He did that a lot.
Repeated. I think of tiles as repetitive. Not sure why though, that just comes to mind.
I hate my master bathroom. It was decorated by old folks who decorated like they were retired in FL. I really hate the tile and if I had my way I would blow up the bathroom and have it all retiled. Maybe one day if Kelly ever wins the lottery, if not I have to live with it.
She stared down at the tiled floor; the small, broken pieces reflecting the wan light of the flourescent bulbs.
the kitchen is not tiled but my life is with emotions that i don’t understand. love is missing from all the tiles in my life. I have been tiled into thinking that no other man is capable of loving me