i’m drunk
it’s hard dealing with the pain of others
i didn’t even know him
it hit me like a
(cliche) brick
it’s all more sensitive
mentally
especially physically
i want it all to go away
i want to be sober
and i want the brick to never have hit me at all
sixty seconds went by fast today
a city in new jersey called newark. the brick city. it is a terrible and crime ridden place with despair, poverty, and overwhelming violence. it is racially segregated and awful.
I’m almost halfway home. Inside I’m bursting, so I pick up a stray brick from a nearby construction site. It’s quite heavy, the edges leaving an odd texture on my hand. With one shot I take the brick and throw it at the nearest window, the window of a half-build kitchen. The window deflects the brick and it soars back landing on my toe. I walk home a little angrier and a little slower than before.
brick….
bricked in
hard and fast
walls all around
stuck in my room,
my life
no where to go
no escape
walls so high… bricks
hard and rough
like my heart
This kid got suspended from the local middle school for throwing a brick at another kid who called him the N word. My dad is the vice principal there so he was in charge of suspending the kid. It was weird, though, because when I heard about it I told him flat out: I would have thrown a brick at the kid too. But I’m white so I don’t usually have that problem . . . Can’t very well throw a brick at someone who calls you a “cracker”.
bricks are red and a lot of houses are made out of them. bricks. that reminds me of the second home alone. was it the second one? yah i think so. whenever kevin threw them off that building. i like the first one better than the second one to be honest. it was more interesting. plus, who the heck loses their kid in the airport for that long? those parents are very negligent, to be honest.
lay a foundation with a brick and brick by brick you make a wall, and brick by brick you make a building, and brick by brick you have a city. and a civilization. and a history. it all begins with a single brick being laid.
It hit me suddenly, like a brick across the face. Stunned I opened my eyes to see hail, red, red like the color of blood falling on the grass around me. I looked up to see a sky, orange and blue with tears of red like I’ve never seen before looming above. What….
Are you ever alone? Oh red, brown, maroon brick, are you like the rest? Did you ever wonder whether you could do anything alone? Not today, not ever, you are stuck in a wall forever.
One after another, they are falling down. She picks one up as if she is going to help. She knows you can’t stop the bricks from falling. She knows that this place is coming down.
bricks are red. they are hard. yet they can be so comforting. think about a red brick wall and thik about the memories that it brings back. writing with chalk the name of the one you think you love. hitting a hand ball up against the wall. experiencing your first kiss up against the sea of red. playing hide and seek as the other count down and try to find you. brick is hard. yet the red brick is the color and texture of your childhood. so many memories. so many things to remember. you have grown up and mesured your life against the red brick. when do you ever see a brick wall of any other color? they even have a crayon nam after you beloved brick wall. there is no such thing as yellow brick, or pink brick. thats because it does not exist. red. that is the color of brick. the color of your memories. the color of what you have loved and lost and experienced. the harshness of growing up. bricks were the ones you saw on the play groud and along the sides of the houses in your neighboorhood and the walls that held you up as you cried. the red brick. thats the one.
Brick used to be a name, or at least a popular nickname, for a certain high school archetype: the large blond jock, stronger than he was smart, inexplicably attractive to girls who should have known better — but no more. Is it that we have no patience for the Bricks of the world now, or is it that they go by a new name? Brad? Mike? Joe?
bricks are solid and make houses, but houses start with a foundation also made from brick. relationships have a foundation too therefore a relationship is like a brick. bricks come in many different colours, they are heavy and hurt when you throw them at people.
i wish I had a brick right now. I’d throw it through your window and to hell with the consequences. Who do you think you are to treat me this way? To belittle and humiliate me over and over again? I won’t take it anymore. I will be the brick that comes barreling through your window.
the house was made of bricks and it was a really tall building people liked to jump off the building, they were really sad about things. I don’t think they’ll ever get over it, the families of them. I think that they’re gonna go crazy. I feel like I’m going crazy I’m going no where. I miss the old times and people I used to know.
i used to feel like each year of my life was like a brick. piecing each one together little by little, hoping that I would build some kind of solid foundation. Little did i know that each brick i laid was building a house around me in which i would live in for the rest of my life.
A square room. No windows, doors, or exits. Your bricked in. No escape. This is reality. Your mind. Strong bricks, they don’t budge, no movement comes from your pushing and shoving, your stuck forever behind these bricks.
red brick. doole house. pepaw. building bricks. clay with mud and dirt. it takes concrete to make them stay put. i like brick red colors in clothes. i think that bricks are somewhat heavy. i think that they can scratch you pretty easily. I find that some of them have holes and some don’t. the ones that have
Old moldy bricks crumbling down walls, old remnants of a time long lost. Pretty red white, factory now something new entirely. Rome looks like it’s made of brick, and it tells of a different time. Some foundations forgotten in the woods, with leaves pushing through the inside of a house. It’s hard to imagine what something once was.
Like a brick wall you stand before me
solid, steadfast and cold
You no longer hear my laughter
No longer see my smile
You stare ahead
blank
vacant
and sad
I walked past the walls and as i did i noticed that one brick was loose, as i pulled it out the other began to come along with it. They reviled a door. I should have known then that going through would be a bad idea
Brick.
Something hard, something red or orange or brown. Something you throw at people when you’re furious with them. But then you feel bad afterwards because you hurt them. At least, I would feel bad.
Something that represents something stable. Something that will be there even through the bad times. The good times.
Brick walls are usually signals of defeat, impenetrable forces of strong-willed women and the men who beat upon them with hammer-hands and pick-axe fists, trying to break them down.
I see bricks as the color red of my carpet in my childhood home, the color of day-old blood waiting to be cleaned with bleach
brick squad dat munee.
brick of coke
brick of meth
brick of swhag
brick of bricks
briiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick
she lives in a fairytale
somewhere to far for us to find
forgotten the taste and smell
of a world that shes left behind
so go get your shovel and we’ll dig a deep hole
to bury the castle bury the castle
there’s a brick in the wall that is my house. it’s where i live and it makes me think of pink floyd. not a very good band if you’re looking to feel something happy. but hey, all and all it’s just another brick in the wall. I’m seeing red because that’s the color bricks are supposed to be. like when you make them out of play dough.
where could the culprit be found?
the broken-down wall?
the debris scattered in the street?
the shattered glass?
the bloodied edge?
the arm, outstretched.
a release.
I fucking love bricks holding up my shit and stuff yo. I know this sounds terrible but Kristen Thinks that I should publish this. I will call it Bricks: a novel. Thank you for reading this small sample of my upcoming novel: Bricks: a novel.
smooth yet rough they surround me. keeping me safe inside away from the freedom i long for. why does it keep me from my dreams this brick blocks my life and gaurds my heart. they have made walls to keep me where i am and stay away from the pain that life can cause but i want to be free and have love again but these bricks will not let it be.
can kill people biuld a house and do may things good and bad just like alot of things good and bad…somethings good somethings bad like a brick it could kill someone or build a house for a family
red house little pigs funny kid on in the middle. strong sturdy helpful colorful light yet heavy you can paint them and make them into great works of art. bricks are fun to use and decorate with…without them id have no home
i’m drunk
it’s hard dealing with the pain of others
i didn’t even know him
it hit me like a
(cliche) brick
it’s all more sensitive
mentally
especially physically
i want it all to go away
i want to be sober
and i want the brick to never have hit me at all
sixty seconds went by fast today
standing alone or tied with someone else. stuck forever until unwanted.
brick. rectangle. builds up walls. yup.
a city in new jersey called newark. the brick city. it is a terrible and crime ridden place with despair, poverty, and overwhelming violence. it is racially segregated and awful.
I’m almost halfway home. Inside I’m bursting, so I pick up a stray brick from a nearby construction site. It’s quite heavy, the edges leaving an odd texture on my hand. With one shot I take the brick and throw it at the nearest window, the window of a half-build kitchen. The window deflects the brick and it soars back landing on my toe. I walk home a little angrier and a little slower than before.
brick….
bricked in
hard and fast
walls all around
stuck in my room,
my life
no where to go
no escape
walls so high… bricks
hard and rough
like my heart
This kid got suspended from the local middle school for throwing a brick at another kid who called him the N word. My dad is the vice principal there so he was in charge of suspending the kid. It was weird, though, because when I heard about it I told him flat out: I would have thrown a brick at the kid too. But I’m white so I don’t usually have that problem . . . Can’t very well throw a brick at someone who calls you a “cracker”.
bricks are red and a lot of houses are made out of them. bricks. that reminds me of the second home alone. was it the second one? yah i think so. whenever kevin threw them off that building. i like the first one better than the second one to be honest. it was more interesting. plus, who the heck loses their kid in the airport for that long? those parents are very negligent, to be honest.
lay a foundation with a brick and brick by brick you make a wall, and brick by brick you make a building, and brick by brick you have a city. and a civilization. and a history. it all begins with a single brick being laid.
It hit me suddenly, like a brick across the face. Stunned I opened my eyes to see hail, red, red like the color of blood falling on the grass around me. I looked up to see a sky, orange and blue with tears of red like I’ve never seen before looming above. What….
Are you ever alone? Oh red, brown, maroon brick, are you like the rest? Did you ever wonder whether you could do anything alone? Not today, not ever, you are stuck in a wall forever.
One after another, they are falling down. She picks one up as if she is going to help. She knows you can’t stop the bricks from falling. She knows that this place is coming down.
bricks are red. they are hard. yet they can be so comforting. think about a red brick wall and thik about the memories that it brings back. writing with chalk the name of the one you think you love. hitting a hand ball up against the wall. experiencing your first kiss up against the sea of red. playing hide and seek as the other count down and try to find you. brick is hard. yet the red brick is the color and texture of your childhood. so many memories. so many things to remember. you have grown up and mesured your life against the red brick. when do you ever see a brick wall of any other color? they even have a crayon nam after you beloved brick wall. there is no such thing as yellow brick, or pink brick. thats because it does not exist. red. that is the color of brick. the color of your memories. the color of what you have loved and lost and experienced. the harshness of growing up. bricks were the ones you saw on the play groud and along the sides of the houses in your neighboorhood and the walls that held you up as you cried. the red brick. thats the one.
The last time I had a money makeing opportunity my head was thick as a
brick wall. red bricks bricks falling down on head. ouch. why we have hardhats. bricks hurt.
Brick used to be a name, or at least a popular nickname, for a certain high school archetype: the large blond jock, stronger than he was smart, inexplicably attractive to girls who should have known better — but no more. Is it that we have no patience for the Bricks of the world now, or is it that they go by a new name? Brad? Mike? Joe?
bricks are solid and make houses, but houses start with a foundation also made from brick. relationships have a foundation too therefore a relationship is like a brick. bricks come in many different colours, they are heavy and hurt when you throw them at people.
i wish I had a brick right now. I’d throw it through your window and to hell with the consequences. Who do you think you are to treat me this way? To belittle and humiliate me over and over again? I won’t take it anymore. I will be the brick that comes barreling through your window.
the house was made of bricks and it was a really tall building people liked to jump off the building, they were really sad about things. I don’t think they’ll ever get over it, the families of them. I think that they’re gonna go crazy. I feel like I’m going crazy I’m going no where. I miss the old times and people I used to know.
City. That could be home…….not all of it made with bricks. Hands breaking down.
i used to feel like each year of my life was like a brick. piecing each one together little by little, hoping that I would build some kind of solid foundation. Little did i know that each brick i laid was building a house around me in which i would live in for the rest of my life.
A square room. No windows, doors, or exits. Your bricked in. No escape. This is reality. Your mind. Strong bricks, they don’t budge, no movement comes from your pushing and shoving, your stuck forever behind these bricks.
red brick. doole house. pepaw. building bricks. clay with mud and dirt. it takes concrete to make them stay put. i like brick red colors in clothes. i think that bricks are somewhat heavy. i think that they can scratch you pretty easily. I find that some of them have holes and some don’t. the ones that have
Old moldy bricks crumbling down walls, old remnants of a time long lost. Pretty red white, factory now something new entirely. Rome looks like it’s made of brick, and it tells of a different time. Some foundations forgotten in the woods, with leaves pushing through the inside of a house. It’s hard to imagine what something once was.
burn down brick
red brick
red fire
we built this city
brick by boring brick
now lets destroy it
Like a brick wall you stand before me
solid, steadfast and cold
You no longer hear my laughter
No longer see my smile
You stare ahead
blank
vacant
and sad
I walked past the walls and as i did i noticed that one brick was loose, as i pulled it out the other began to come along with it. They reviled a door. I should have known then that going through would be a bad idea
Bricks are building blocks that can be positive in ones life. You can build a solid foundation
Brick.
Something hard, something red or orange or brown. Something you throw at people when you’re furious with them. But then you feel bad afterwards because you hurt them. At least, I would feel bad.
Something that represents something stable. Something that will be there even through the bad times. The good times.
Brick walls are usually signals of defeat, impenetrable forces of strong-willed women and the men who beat upon them with hammer-hands and pick-axe fists, trying to break them down.
I see bricks as the color red of my carpet in my childhood home, the color of day-old blood waiting to be cleaned with bleach
brick squad dat munee.
brick of coke
brick of meth
brick of swhag
brick of bricks
briiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick
square metal concrete
brick is the unity of building god bless the brick cause it made my home however brick built war and there’0s war for bricks
she lives in a fairytale
somewhere to far for us to find
forgotten the taste and smell
of a world that shes left behind
so go get your shovel and we’ll dig a deep hole
to bury the castle bury the castle
there’s a brick in the wall that is my house. it’s where i live and it makes me think of pink floyd. not a very good band if you’re looking to feel something happy. but hey, all and all it’s just another brick in the wall. I’m seeing red because that’s the color bricks are supposed to be. like when you make them out of play dough.
where could the culprit be found?
the broken-down wall?
the debris scattered in the street?
the shattered glass?
the bloodied edge?
the arm, outstretched.
a release.
I fucking love bricks holding up my shit and stuff yo. I know this sounds terrible but Kristen Thinks that I should publish this. I will call it Bricks: a novel. Thank you for reading this small sample of my upcoming novel: Bricks: a novel.
smooth yet rough they surround me. keeping me safe inside away from the freedom i long for. why does it keep me from my dreams this brick blocks my life and gaurds my heart. they have made walls to keep me where i am and stay away from the pain that life can cause but i want to be free and have love again but these bricks will not let it be.
can kill people biuld a house and do may things good and bad just like alot of things good and bad…somethings good somethings bad like a brick it could kill someone or build a house for a family
red house little pigs funny kid on in the middle. strong sturdy helpful colorful light yet heavy you can paint them and make them into great works of art. bricks are fun to use and decorate with…without them id have no home
bit by bit, mortar by mortar.
time to sweat for your life
bleed for your home
put it together
make it a family affair.