Automatic like a button red pressed cockpit and stone dry. lost for verbs shouts so much that it’s deeply stained and broken. Marble wood and paper salt burning clear.
automatic cars, automatic sleep. i’m a machine, i’m automatic. controlled. subservient. convenient. i’m just a thing for you to rely upon, whenever you need it. your words are such. and sometimes, so are mine. it’s an automatic “i love you too.” but does it mean anything anymore?
she was automatic. like a loaded ak 47. full of death and speed, she took the turns like a cheeta. damned if she did and damned if she dont. she flowed like the ocean at midnight.
We take a lot of things in without thinking about it. It’s automatic, our brain stores it away, without really thinking about how it could be wrong or if there’s an angle there that hadn’t been thought of. Maybe things that were taken as deep and meaningful, or as an insightful judgement of the human race can be picked over, and the holes all pulled out. I once met a man who really did built a house on a rock. Some old reclusive millionaire had a house of native timber and glass built on an island he had bought. I asked him if any wind or rain beat down on his house. ‘Of course not’, he replied. It was around in South America, one of those places that hadn’t rained in centuries. Who would be stupid enough to build such an expensive and fragile house where it could get washed or blown away to oblivion?
machine hand whistle blows the day to a stop. We shuffle to the lockers, we shuffle out the door, we trudge through the parking lots to the small solo cars that will take us home as we sleep.
Automatic cars. Automatic lifestyle, choices and habits. Automatic opinions and thoughts. Automatically inclined. ENOUGH AUTOMATIC. I’m done with automatic but you do not want to get me started about standard.
Everything is automatic these day. My thoughts are automatic. I’m automatically tired all the time. I wish I could drive a stick shift. I don’t know where this is going, but I also like driving without knowing where my vehicle will take me. Sometimes automatic is fantastic. Sometimes it isn’t. I really enjoy these.
The biggest regret of life is for one to take everything and do anything automatically. We should consciously and deliberately act, remembering, feeling, experiencing and immersing in all. The routine clamps down on our senses and dulls our mind. Do not automate your life.
Whats funny is that I wrote about the word automatic about 2 minutes ago under the name Joseph Dimanche and here I am again signed in as one of onewords members manually writing about it again. The question is now, was this at will? Or was it automatic? Is my life determined or is it not?
almost everything in this world is automatic nowadays. at one click of a button, the world will go round in your fingertips. At a touch, you can talk to anybody and see anyone you wish to,
I automatically get stressed out when thinking about the airport. As a Muslim American, flying has become a very big deal and long process for me and my family. Any time I am flying internationally, I have always been asked to step aside to be randomly selected for extra security screening.
When I’m tired, like now, the writing is automatic. Every verb, noun, and adjective. It’s as though something takes over my body, it knows I’m in no state of mind to think, but it lets me write something deeper, something more beautiful. There was this essay, this long research essay, and I wrote all the points but the last while I was awake, then suddenly, the last was the most in depth and earned me the most points. The mind can be so crazy.
I have an automatic response to push people i care about most away from me. i don’t know why i do it. i just do. i dont think that i can top it. but i know that i want to. i want tohave the people who i care about and that care about me in my life more. and i dont want to push them away anymore.
i automatically wake up in an automatic state of mind. This can be very exhausting. I want to be completely free from anything automatic. I want to be manual. I want full control. What is it that you want they ask me. I say everything. Everything to encompass my mind is what I want.
Well, I’m supposed to automatically start writing about this word that I have no idea what it was going to be. Automatic is obviously my word. I automatically don’t know what to put because I’ve never done writing exercises like this. And I don’t know how to drive an automatic vehicle. I don’t even know how to drive a manual vehicle for that matter. I don’t like driving. It scares me. People don’t understand the risk of driving. It’s more scary than flying.
Your instinct, you atuomatically do something because it triggers in the back of your mind that its what your supposed to do. Another definition for automatic is something electronic that happens on its own, there is no manual part to it. This correlates with the human brain
write quick fast. but its not working we’re in outerspace. floating. and you expect me to believe anything you say? you need to come sit down. and let’ go in the shower now.
a day in the life
it’s automatic
a routine
sucking,
gnawing at the depths of your soul;
waiting
planning new strategies
to get into your head
and erase
every last ounce,
of happiness.
I never even though. I just typed. Fingers strike keyboard, attack, a tack attic, a tick, a toe, a foot.
She once told me there is always something a foot, it’s just if the legend of Dov is part of that body of work…
She said i really do not make sense sometimes, because I’m so busy trying to earn dollars
i stay automatic when it comes to my money no matter what im going to get
yea some mite hate but i aint stopping til i got it all so thats means theres no finish
forever on my mind so it makes people think thats all im all about
guess what,,,,,,,your very correct about that one to bad you cant have the same mind track i have if so you probably wouldnt be worried about me so much
skys the limit cant reach it without going crazy over green,,green paper with dead presidents on them that is.
car. i think of a car starting automicatically when you press a button. it automatically recognizes your finger touch and will start up without a key or button. i also think of a microwave. basically anything electronic because in this day and age everything happens automatically, even when you google something it is automatic because it tells you how long it takes to find something. usually like 0.1234533255235 seconds. and i think that we should all take a break from automatic and go back to the days where it didn’t take 0.1234533255235 seconds do find out a certain piece of information. back in time when you had to walk a mile to the nearest book store or library to get information.
The sound of the car vibrated into her ears, it engulfed her. All that she could see, and all that she was, was metal. Cold hard metal. It only was quick, a snap decision. And she was gone. The light flashed, not from in front of her, but behind her eyes, like her brain had absorbed the crash before it hit. Like it knew what was going to happen. And that was the scariest part, it wasn’t even her choice.
I don’t think or breathe. I see you and the whole world stops. I spin, in orbit, around you, my sun. Without a thought, you are the focus and I swing around mindlessly, ignoring the jeers and stares of the others. They don’t understand. They’ll never understand the automatic pull you have over me.
I stared blankly at the scene before me. I saw their mouths moving, their eyes searching mine, wanting a response. I couldn’t hear them, I had shut down. Everything in me had shut down. Breathing was the only function my body could handle.
it was automatic how i felt as soon as you smiled. with those large rimmed glasses and your silly shoes and that button up. it was automatic how static i felt to you right then and there. lust at it’s finest.
on, off automatic.
the phone, the computer, the game,
everything is automatic.
turn it off turn in on
BAM! its there, BAM it’s gone.
everything is automatic.
we try, its already done
It happens just that automatically. It stops without atrophy. It does not want a trophy wife. how can life be so trite? Its the automatic, autocratic machine we now plug into day in and day out, without a doubt.
He checked the engine and banged his head on the hood of the car. Goddamn it, not again. He kicked the wheel as he went back to the driver’s seat and immediately regretted it.
It was an automatic type of thing: the way she moved from side-to-side, catching all the eyes of the people around her. The curvature of her body making them stare in awe; her beauty was striking. She was the one everyone wanted.
I want my automatic to be my thought-through, my genuine, my beautiful. I want it to flow right out with every cog-turn and every lever-pull. I want my automatic to be life.
She ahs her skin bronzed, and her eyelashes extand so far out, she does a dance on the tall heled shoes, and theres a ring on her pinkie, I’m not sure why I noticed that, I’m too busy looking at her breasts. Like a barbie doll, my friends all look at each other, some grinning, some quiet, like me. And the one that is smiling is the loudest, bangs his fist on the desk, breeths in through his teeth to make a SSS sound, yes. We all laugh along.
“So you have no idea what you’re doing?”
“This isn’t like driving an automatic!” Jeff screamed as he spiraled in the air. Smoke and flames sputtered out of his feet as he watched the mountains grow larger and larger beneath him.
“Um…point with your head?” Andy suggested.
“What kind of stupid advice is that!?”
“It’s what the super heroes do in comic books,” the voice on the other line replied. “It’s why super heroes look like they have sticks up their butts when they fly.”
“If I die, I’m going to shove a stick up YOUR butt!” Jeff replied.
“Yeah, well, point your head and, according to Spider-man, the rest of your body will naturally follow. If you die…well, I’ll still be here waiting for that stick.”
the places i want to go are very automatic, i like to drink tea and drink things that make me go crazy like a auto pilot. but i automatically love coffee when i wake up. it’s awesome and i could drink it for the rest of my life. then agin i love the coffee maker that is automatiic
put the car into automatic and just drive. drive away from all of your problems. just keep going. no matter what happens. drive away from all of the problems, all the pain. the heartache will go away in time. just drive away from it all.
a new life ahead. a life of freedom.
Sometimes I feel like this word describes how I go about things in my life. I hardly take the time to just “smell the roses”. My life is automatic. And so is my car.
Automatic like a button red pressed cockpit and stone dry. lost for verbs shouts so much that it’s deeply stained and broken. Marble wood and paper salt burning clear.
machine atuomatic robot pilot function lever thought subconscious mind
automatic cars, automatic sleep. i’m a machine, i’m automatic. controlled. subservient. convenient. i’m just a thing for you to rely upon, whenever you need it. your words are such. and sometimes, so are mine. it’s an automatic “i love you too.” but does it mean anything anymore?
she was automatic. like a loaded ak 47. full of death and speed, she took the turns like a cheeta. damned if she did and damned if she dont. she flowed like the ocean at midnight.
We take a lot of things in without thinking about it. It’s automatic, our brain stores it away, without really thinking about how it could be wrong or if there’s an angle there that hadn’t been thought of. Maybe things that were taken as deep and meaningful, or as an insightful judgement of the human race can be picked over, and the holes all pulled out. I once met a man who really did built a house on a rock. Some old reclusive millionaire had a house of native timber and glass built on an island he had bought. I asked him if any wind or rain beat down on his house. ‘Of course not’, he replied. It was around in South America, one of those places that hadn’t rained in centuries. Who would be stupid enough to build such an expensive and fragile house where it could get washed or blown away to oblivion?
machine hand whistle blows the day to a stop. We shuffle to the lockers, we shuffle out the door, we trudge through the parking lots to the small solo cars that will take us home as we sleep.
Automatic cars. Automatic lifestyle, choices and habits. Automatic opinions and thoughts. Automatically inclined. ENOUGH AUTOMATIC. I’m done with automatic but you do not want to get me started about standard.
Everything is automatic these day. My thoughts are automatic. I’m automatically tired all the time. I wish I could drive a stick shift. I don’t know where this is going, but I also like driving without knowing where my vehicle will take me. Sometimes automatic is fantastic. Sometimes it isn’t. I really enjoy these.
The biggest regret of life is for one to take everything and do anything automatically. We should consciously and deliberately act, remembering, feeling, experiencing and immersing in all. The routine clamps down on our senses and dulls our mind. Do not automate your life.
Whats funny is that I wrote about the word automatic about 2 minutes ago under the name Joseph Dimanche and here I am again signed in as one of onewords members manually writing about it again. The question is now, was this at will? Or was it automatic? Is my life determined or is it not?
almost everything in this world is automatic nowadays. at one click of a button, the world will go round in your fingertips. At a touch, you can talk to anybody and see anyone you wish to,
I automatically get stressed out when thinking about the airport. As a Muslim American, flying has become a very big deal and long process for me and my family. Any time I am flying internationally, I have always been asked to step aside to be randomly selected for extra security screening.
When I’m tired, like now, the writing is automatic. Every verb, noun, and adjective. It’s as though something takes over my body, it knows I’m in no state of mind to think, but it lets me write something deeper, something more beautiful. There was this essay, this long research essay, and I wrote all the points but the last while I was awake, then suddenly, the last was the most in depth and earned me the most points. The mind can be so crazy.
I have an automatic response to push people i care about most away from me. i don’t know why i do it. i just do. i dont think that i can top it. but i know that i want to. i want tohave the people who i care about and that care about me in my life more. and i dont want to push them away anymore.
i automatically wake up in an automatic state of mind. This can be very exhausting. I want to be completely free from anything automatic. I want to be manual. I want full control. What is it that you want they ask me. I say everything. Everything to encompass my mind is what I want.
my brain is automatic when i see this word it just goes from gear to gear shifting seamlessly it is truly amazing what the human brain is capable of
Well, I’m supposed to automatically start writing about this word that I have no idea what it was going to be. Automatic is obviously my word. I automatically don’t know what to put because I’ve never done writing exercises like this. And I don’t know how to drive an automatic vehicle. I don’t even know how to drive a manual vehicle for that matter. I don’t like driving. It scares me. People don’t understand the risk of driving. It’s more scary than flying.
Your instinct, you atuomatically do something because it triggers in the back of your mind that its what your supposed to do. Another definition for automatic is something electronic that happens on its own, there is no manual part to it. This correlates with the human brain
machine. minds. people. reading. manual instead of automatic. robots. weapons. response.
write quick fast. but its not working we’re in outerspace. floating. and you expect me to believe anything you say? you need to come sit down. and let’ go in the shower now.
a day in the life
it’s automatic
a routine
sucking,
gnawing at the depths of your soul;
waiting
planning new strategies
to get into your head
and erase
every last ounce,
of happiness.
I never even though. I just typed. Fingers strike keyboard, attack, a tack attic, a tick, a toe, a foot.
She once told me there is always something a foot, it’s just if the legend of Dov is part of that body of work…
She said i really do not make sense sometimes, because I’m so busy trying to earn dollars
i stay automatic when it comes to my money no matter what im going to get
yea some mite hate but i aint stopping til i got it all so thats means theres no finish
forever on my mind so it makes people think thats all im all about
guess what,,,,,,,your very correct about that one to bad you cant have the same mind track i have if so you probably wouldnt be worried about me so much
skys the limit cant reach it without going crazy over green,,green paper with dead presidents on them that is.
car. i think of a car starting automicatically when you press a button. it automatically recognizes your finger touch and will start up without a key or button. i also think of a microwave. basically anything electronic because in this day and age everything happens automatically, even when you google something it is automatic because it tells you how long it takes to find something. usually like 0.1234533255235 seconds. and i think that we should all take a break from automatic and go back to the days where it didn’t take 0.1234533255235 seconds do find out a certain piece of information. back in time when you had to walk a mile to the nearest book store or library to get information.
The sound of the car vibrated into her ears, it engulfed her. All that she could see, and all that she was, was metal. Cold hard metal. It only was quick, a snap decision. And she was gone. The light flashed, not from in front of her, but behind her eyes, like her brain had absorbed the crash before it hit. Like it knew what was going to happen. And that was the scariest part, it wasn’t even her choice.
I don’t think or breathe. I see you and the whole world stops. I spin, in orbit, around you, my sun. Without a thought, you are the focus and I swing around mindlessly, ignoring the jeers and stares of the others. They don’t understand. They’ll never understand the automatic pull you have over me.
In fact if it hadn’t been for the fact that he would have been snapped at, he might have actually hugged her to stop her tears.
I stared blankly at the scene before me. I saw their mouths moving, their eyes searching mine, wanting a response. I couldn’t hear them, I had shut down. Everything in me had shut down. Breathing was the only function my body could handle.
it was automatic how i felt as soon as you smiled. with those large rimmed glasses and your silly shoes and that button up. it was automatic how static i felt to you right then and there. lust at it’s finest.
on, off automatic.
the phone, the computer, the game,
everything is automatic.
turn it off turn in on
BAM! its there, BAM it’s gone.
everything is automatic.
we try, its already done
It happens just that automatically. It stops without atrophy. It does not want a trophy wife. how can life be so trite? Its the automatic, autocratic machine we now plug into day in and day out, without a doubt.
He checked the engine and banged his head on the hood of the car. Goddamn it, not again. He kicked the wheel as he went back to the driver’s seat and immediately regretted it.
It was an automatic type of thing: the way she moved from side-to-side, catching all the eyes of the people around her. The curvature of her body making them stare in awe; her beauty was striking. She was the one everyone wanted.
I want my automatic to be my thought-through, my genuine, my beautiful. I want it to flow right out with every cog-turn and every lever-pull. I want my automatic to be life.
It’s push to start. Sex drive, cars, locks. It’s all automatic.
She ahs her skin bronzed, and her eyelashes extand so far out, she does a dance on the tall heled shoes, and theres a ring on her pinkie, I’m not sure why I noticed that, I’m too busy looking at her breasts. Like a barbie doll, my friends all look at each other, some grinning, some quiet, like me. And the one that is smiling is the loudest, bangs his fist on the desk, breeths in through his teeth to make a SSS sound, yes. We all laugh along.
“So you have no idea what you’re doing?”
“This isn’t like driving an automatic!” Jeff screamed as he spiraled in the air. Smoke and flames sputtered out of his feet as he watched the mountains grow larger and larger beneath him.
“Um…point with your head?” Andy suggested.
“What kind of stupid advice is that!?”
“It’s what the super heroes do in comic books,” the voice on the other line replied. “It’s why super heroes look like they have sticks up their butts when they fly.”
“If I die, I’m going to shove a stick up YOUR butt!” Jeff replied.
“Yeah, well, point your head and, according to Spider-man, the rest of your body will naturally follow. If you die…well, I’ll still be here waiting for that stick.”
the places i want to go are very automatic, i like to drink tea and drink things that make me go crazy like a auto pilot. but i automatically love coffee when i wake up. it’s awesome and i could drink it for the rest of my life. then agin i love the coffee maker that is automatiic
put the car into automatic and just drive. drive away from all of your problems. just keep going. no matter what happens. drive away from all of the problems, all the pain. the heartache will go away in time. just drive away from it all.
a new life ahead. a life of freedom.
Sometimes I feel like this word describes how I go about things in my life. I hardly take the time to just “smell the roses”. My life is automatic. And so is my car.