It was just an exchange I reminded myself. She would stay here only for the weekend until IT left the house, The house that was never hers. I glanced up at her frowning down at me. I buried my sketchbook under the bed covers. Nothing I replied curtly, And made a self-note never to allow her to see me in my drawing zone.
An exchange of looks passed between the members of the group. Did they really mean to murder the king? Drolf broke the silence.
“If this is what we intend–if we all agree–then we must decide the best way in which it should be done.”
I wonder what the exchange rate for life itself. We have to live in the world and there are certain things we must trade off in order to live here. For example…we can’t just yell at the sky because it’s gray and not blue today. I often wonder if we exchange our emotions for civility…and I’m glad we do.
He handed me the dollar and I fished four quarters from the bag. “Thanks.” “Yeah, no problem, anytime.” He walked to the jukebox and deposited the coins and made a selection. The Eagles came over the loud speaker welcoming us to the Hotel California.
She reached her greedy hands for the carefully wrapped box. I stood there, legs locked, unable to move. The tension curdling through my body was enough to make my fingers shake.
“just give it to me already!” she screeched as she snatched the box out of my hands.
Exchange rate is something that I never fully understood. I mean who is the person behind it to set the proper value? I do not consider myself stupid – but maybe I am. After all, everything is just a matter of an agreement, isn’t it?
You can see from the creases beneath her eyes that they had another fight which is why she’s here again knocking at my front door in this ungodly hour of the night. Sometimes I wonder why they’re still together, and why I still unlock the doors for her to let me come inside her.
In exchange for your soul, would you trade a rainbow pen with every color at your fingertips? a black sedan sleek and slyly shining? a home for your heart and for your helpless skin? a lover in whose eyes the universe reclines?
Of course it wasn’t my idea. I’m not the smart one, not that anyone can tell. People’s faces aren’t always as revealing as they seem. Some seem to grow to fit their visage, taking on its animal characteristics, but some of us refuse to let something as arbitrary as our appearance dictate the path of our soul’s evolution. My partner had the briefcase. Innocently, I pulled the trigger. I’m just taking orders.
“Secede,” she demanded, clasping the back of her husband’s neck and giving it a sinister squeeze. “This nation was great, and could be great again, but not under your reign.” She pressed him close to her and whispered, “I will kill you to preserve the land you love.” His eyelids flickered, lost in a dream.
I had to go to the exchange to get my currency changed. It was such a rip off, a pain in the ass. But when you travel in a country where using a credit card can result in massive fraud, the only way to spend money was in cash, which had its own dangers. Still, it was an experience.
“Change?” he asks, as if I might decide to let him keep the three silver coins clinking in the palm of his hand. “No,” I reply. Weeping, he casts them like a fortune teller might cast the knuckle bones of an orangutan behind a bead-strung curtain hung between the outside world, awaiting enlightenment, and the lone one within. I gather them and, embarrassed, glance out the window. An ill omen awaits me.
It was quick cash, and the rent was due. Sleeping the car again ran a distant second to the memory of trying to retain dignity while washing up in the McDonald’s women’s restroom. The guy looked like he was college, clean-cut and nervous. She tucked away the last vestiges of her Catholic guilt and led him into the alleyway.
In exchange for your testimony I shall need to rearrange the exchange we had the other day. The exchange is rearranged from that which is deranged into a cohesive stage.
you breathe life into everything you touch. daffodils sprout from the pavement, vines grow clinging to fire escape rails, drawling laughter from my reluctant lips. you hold my hand, and where we touch, i am excited, for once in my life, about my own future. and in turn, you look at me, suddenly serious, eyes dark, demeanour calm, a reflection of who i can sometimes be. and we stand, in sync, me brimming over with love, you at peace with the idea of us, just us, together
you breathe life into everything you touch. daffodils sprout from the pavement, vines grow clinging to fire escape rails, drawling laughter from my reluctant lips. you hold my hand, and where we touch, i am excited, for once in my life, about my own future. and in turn, you look at me, suddenly serious, eyes dark, demeanour calm, a reflection of who i can sometimes be. and we stand, in sync, me brimming over with love, you at peace with the idea of us, just us, together.
it is a very essential thing to exchange thoughts and feelings, without it a man will choke on his own feelings.If you just speak and don’t let the other person talk its of no use. Give and take is the key to successful relationships.
don’t believe it’s equal, because it’s not. exchange in definition may imply equity, equal exchange, equal giving and receiving. how nice that would be. but in reality we exchange things of unequal value all the time. my trust for your skepticism, my labour power for the shitty wage you offer, my vote for your lies.
I want to exchange the pair of pants i brought at kholes. They were marron cords.. i thought they would have looked nice with the white blouse i bought, however i was mistaken.
It was my other lover who had built a fortress for him and his wife. It had taken twenty five years to build and was made from the perfect house in the perfect street, perfect careers and beautifully groomed faces smiling at perfect parties. And having no children of course. No amount of secret explosive orgasms could knock that fortress down.
But I found you in rubble. The ruins of a marriage, which suits me better. You are broken and far less shiny of course but there are no shadows cast from high walls. All I feel is sunshine here in your devastated world.
Its always a surprise for men when they going exploring. Up and down the hills and valleys of my fair skin. From the top all the way down to my most peculiar feature. But you. You know me. You have always known me. You have known me since I drew breath and since the time I knew my own self. You are not surprised, just delighted as you pop my twin toes into your mouth.
Exchange can mean many things. We exchange ideas, money… germs. Exchange is something where we have to deal with others, not just ourselves. It’s important to work together and exchanging things can be a good thing.
You asked me to draw a tattoo on your chest, an agadez cross right across your heart. So I did that. And while my hands were scratching tiny details into your skin, I think some love slipped out. It came right out of your heart and made its way through my hand, up my arm and into my head. It was a fair exchange I thought. Its a shame you seem to want it back now.
i exchanged my number for yours, your pale fingers trembling in the cold winter snow. i text you continuously but the only thing i get is “welcome to pizza hut, what would you like?”
To exchange forgiveness is something I cannot guarantee as of the moment. You have broken my heart into pieces and I think it would be best if you let me heal before I can consider forgiving you.
I gave Roger twenty bucks in exchange for one of the fattest, juiciest turkeys he had prepared in the deli. When I took it home, I was giddy. Soon, the feasting would begin. The crispy skin on the poultry goodness as it simmered, gleaming, in the oven. The mashed potatoes laden with fresh butter and salt that would make my tongue dance. The casseroles and salads set to complement the copious wine and beer flowing from the bottles, just in time for the richness of the pie.
to change with something else. To change or trade or to barter.
It was just an exchange I reminded myself. She would stay here only for the weekend until IT left the house, The house that was never hers. I glanced up at her frowning down at me. I buried my sketchbook under the bed covers. Nothing I replied curtly, And made a self-note never to allow her to see me in my drawing zone.
An exchange of looks passed between the members of the group. Did they really mean to murder the king? Drolf broke the silence.
“If this is what we intend–if we all agree–then we must decide the best way in which it should be done.”
I wonder what the exchange rate for life itself. We have to live in the world and there are certain things we must trade off in order to live here. For example…we can’t just yell at the sky because it’s gray and not blue today. I often wonder if we exchange our emotions for civility…and I’m glad we do.
He handed me the dollar and I fished four quarters from the bag. “Thanks.” “Yeah, no problem, anytime.” He walked to the jukebox and deposited the coins and made a selection. The Eagles came over the loud speaker welcoming us to the Hotel California.
She reached her greedy hands for the carefully wrapped box. I stood there, legs locked, unable to move. The tension curdling through my body was enough to make my fingers shake.
“just give it to me already!” she screeched as she snatched the box out of my hands.
Exchange rate is something that I never fully understood. I mean who is the person behind it to set the proper value? I do not consider myself stupid – but maybe I am. After all, everything is just a matter of an agreement, isn’t it?
You can see from the creases beneath her eyes that they had another fight which is why she’s here again knocking at my front door in this ungodly hour of the night. Sometimes I wonder why they’re still together, and why I still unlock the doors for her to let me come inside her.
The ones with red lips would always exchange lies filled with pride.
The ones with the brightest smiles would exchange knives under the cloak.
The ones that stands alone would always exchange tricks to block out the masses.
giving something you have to a person as a trade for something they have. one for one.
In exchange for your soul, would you trade a rainbow pen with every color at your fingertips? a black sedan sleek and slyly shining? a home for your heart and for your helpless skin? a lover in whose eyes the universe reclines?
J.T.O.
Of course it wasn’t my idea. I’m not the smart one, not that anyone can tell. People’s faces aren’t always as revealing as they seem. Some seem to grow to fit their visage, taking on its animal characteristics, but some of us refuse to let something as arbitrary as our appearance dictate the path of our soul’s evolution. My partner had the briefcase. Innocently, I pulled the trigger. I’m just taking orders.
“Secede,” she demanded, clasping the back of her husband’s neck and giving it a sinister squeeze. “This nation was great, and could be great again, but not under your reign.” She pressed him close to her and whispered, “I will kill you to preserve the land you love.” His eyelids flickered, lost in a dream.
I had to go to the exchange to get my currency changed. It was such a rip off, a pain in the ass. But when you travel in a country where using a credit card can result in massive fraud, the only way to spend money was in cash, which had its own dangers. Still, it was an experience.
“Change?” he asks, as if I might decide to let him keep the three silver coins clinking in the palm of his hand. “No,” I reply. Weeping, he casts them like a fortune teller might cast the knuckle bones of an orangutan behind a bead-strung curtain hung between the outside world, awaiting enlightenment, and the lone one within. I gather them and, embarrassed, glance out the window. An ill omen awaits me.
It was quick cash, and the rent was due. Sleeping the car again ran a distant second to the memory of trying to retain dignity while washing up in the McDonald’s women’s restroom. The guy looked like he was college, clean-cut and nervous. She tucked away the last vestiges of her Catholic guilt and led him into the alleyway.
In exchange for your testimony I shall need to rearrange the exchange we had the other day. The exchange is rearranged from that which is deranged into a cohesive stage.
There was a change in something.
Not any more.
That is the past now.
you breathe life into everything you touch. daffodils sprout from the pavement, vines grow clinging to fire escape rails, drawling laughter from my reluctant lips. you hold my hand, and where we touch, i am excited, for once in my life, about my own future. and in turn, you look at me, suddenly serious, eyes dark, demeanour calm, a reflection of who i can sometimes be. and we stand, in sync, me brimming over with love, you at peace with the idea of us, just us, together
you breathe life into everything you touch. daffodils sprout from the pavement, vines grow clinging to fire escape rails, drawling laughter from my reluctant lips. you hold my hand, and where we touch, i am excited, for once in my life, about my own future. and in turn, you look at me, suddenly serious, eyes dark, demeanour calm, a reflection of who i can sometimes be. and we stand, in sync, me brimming over with love, you at peace with the idea of us, just us, together.
it is a very essential thing to exchange thoughts and feelings, without it a man will choke on his own feelings.If you just speak and don’t let the other person talk its of no use. Give and take is the key to successful relationships.
Beads for barter. A hundred dollars for a hundred acres. The start of the end.
don’t believe it’s equal, because it’s not. exchange in definition may imply equity, equal exchange, equal giving and receiving. how nice that would be. but in reality we exchange things of unequal value all the time. my trust for your skepticism, my labour power for the shitty wage you offer, my vote for your lies.
I want to exchange the pair of pants i brought at kholes. They were marron cords.. i thought they would have looked nice with the white blouse i bought, however i was mistaken.
I loved
the thought –
which is
truly what
matters
but
I exchanged it
anyway, as
it made me
think of
you.
FORTRESS
It was my other lover who had built a fortress for him and his wife. It had taken twenty five years to build and was made from the perfect house in the perfect street, perfect careers and beautifully groomed faces smiling at perfect parties. And having no children of course. No amount of secret explosive orgasms could knock that fortress down.
But I found you in rubble. The ruins of a marriage, which suits me better. You are broken and far less shiny of course but there are no shadows cast from high walls. All I feel is sunshine here in your devastated world.
FEATURE
Its always a surprise for men when they going exploring. Up and down the hills and valleys of my fair skin. From the top all the way down to my most peculiar feature. But you. You know me. You have always known me. You have known me since I drew breath and since the time I knew my own self. You are not surprised, just delighted as you pop my twin toes into your mouth.
Exchange can mean many things. We exchange ideas, money… germs. Exchange is something where we have to deal with others, not just ourselves. It’s important to work together and exchanging things can be a good thing.
You asked me to draw a tattoo on your chest, an agadez cross right across your heart. So I did that. And while my hands were scratching tiny details into your skin, I think some love slipped out. It came right out of your heart and made its way through my hand, up my arm and into my head. It was a fair exchange I thought. Its a shame you seem to want it back now.
i exchanged my number for yours, your pale fingers trembling in the cold winter snow. i text you continuously but the only thing i get is “welcome to pizza hut, what would you like?”
Dear human,
To exchange forgiveness is something I cannot guarantee as of the moment. You have broken my heart into pieces and I think it would be best if you let me heal before I can consider forgiving you.
Thanks you.
the exchange rate is doing wonders for my career. crushing my dreams though.
“if i could exchange my life, i would.
i would change it with someone who’s rich, handsome and loved by all!”- my 10 yr old self
I gave Roger twenty bucks in exchange for one of the fattest, juiciest turkeys he had prepared in the deli. When I took it home, I was giddy. Soon, the feasting would begin. The crispy skin on the poultry goodness as it simmered, gleaming, in the oven. The mashed potatoes laden with fresh butter and salt that would make my tongue dance. The casseroles and salads set to complement the copious wine and beer flowing from the bottles, just in time for the richness of the pie.