i saw all this black residue on the backseat of my car and i couldn’t help but think it was from the god damned fucking alien that shit all over my car the night before. the fucker came down from the light and looked in my eyes, smiled, and literally, fucking shit all over the hood of my car. i thought the first encounter with aliens would be a bit more life altering, but instead it was just me cleaning shit off my car.
_He had the scent._ The world blurred around him, as he inhaled slowly, something that was more than just an aroma finding specialized receptors, triggering a response that was as visceral as it was pleasant.
“Wait! Grab a map!” Jensen shouted to the Ninja Babe. She quickly grabbed the iPad unit and they both, hand in hand, fled the accident scene. the mental residue of the the crash and the decisions they made in its aftermath quickly faded away as they ran through the empty streets.
The thick substance had just planted itself in my mind as a nasty reminder of all that the past had given me in it’s hands of wax. The wax of forged relationships, upon lies and deceit. She cheated, lied, and never truly accepted me. Our relationship became a scam and a sham upon which we lied often.
There is a residue on my body. The remaining sweat on my face dissipated into a thin layer of salt as I drove home in the hot driver’s seat. Damn I need a shower. A really good one.
The thick substance had just planted itself in my mind as a nasty reminder of all that the past had given me in it’s hands of wax. The wax of forged relationships, upon lies and deceit. She cheated, lied, and never truly accepted me.
When I think of residue, I just think of mess. I hate messes especially when a cold drink leaves that horrible wet residue on the counter or side table. Then you find yourself sweeping your sleeve through it. What are you left with? Water on your sleeve. You don’t notice it until you can feel the cold wetness touching your skin. If you’re like me, you roll up your sleeve but now you have to roll up the other one. Then your sleeves are stretched out. It’s horrible..horrible..horrible.
the residue she found on her sheets was becoming sticky as it dried. looking over to her left she saw the love of her life sleeping peacefully beside her. she now knew what that mysterious residue left on her sheets was. laying back down she looked back on the memories from the night before. She hadn’t know exactly how lovely it could be to be that close to someone.
a slight russling of the sheets warned her that he was moving again. his arm wrapped around her bare waist and pulled her as close as possible.
Today I slipped on some slimy , stinky green residue. I was appalled, not only because this goo was now on the bottom of my foot, but also because none of the men decided to clean it up. Needless to say i was horrified!
your love left this saddening residue on my soul. the light takes it in, recoils, feeds it to darkness. if the residue wasn’t there, i’d be content. nothing more then that.
the residue of the semen is all over the bed and eww some is in my hair ugghhh blaahhhh blaarrrggghhhh sorry i mean what is the residue i don’t even know what that word means.
Today I went into the shower and slipped on some slimy, stinky, green residue. I was so angry, and screamed at the top of my lungs. I proceeded to go back to my room, fuming, and wondering why these mad men could not simply clean up for themselves!
fuck you nasty muddy residue
you leave me hanging by my shoe
wiping that shit off the bottom
always hoping shits not rotted
in the cracks of my shoe
i hate you stupid residue
When I think of this word I think about my nasty shower curtain that has fungus on it. Its such a gross word. Or something at the end bottom of a cup of juice. Not an attractive word I believe.
A greyish powder lined the test tube – it had not been cleaned after the previous experiment.
Residue is like mess… something left over when you don’t want it to be. The remains of something.
I fill out the application form, knowing how momentous this is. I can’t turn back from this now. This is the first moment that is utterly irrevocable. I can’t fix this if I get it wrong, but somehow I know that I’ve made the right choice.
The residue of you still sits on my skin
I have not bathed for fear it wash away
what I have left of you
the memories will slip down the drain
follow the sewer pipes and land
where it belongs
piled on top
it’s residue. of what? I have know IDEA. I could be poetic about this word and say something about the residue of a broken heart. I could be less cliche and write about the residue of
I was cleaning my bedroom on tuesday. While doing so my mother asked if I could also clean the bathroom. I agreed and went on to clean the shower. In the bottom of the shower there was left over RESDUE. It was despicably disgusting. I was utterly traumatized. Next time I don’t think I will agree to clean the bathroom…
Jamie’s fingers smell like lighter fluid, or was it gasoline? Either way, the residue is hanging heavy in the air between them. Conrad feels sick from it or maybe just from what they just had to do. The cab of Jamie’s car is too small. The world feels too small.
I see the residue of the ways the tears have left your skin. And I realise what I have done.
For Ill always blame myself.
No longer will you live faithfully to yourself.
Most people today in society are residue compared to the good souls I call my friends. The general public are all ignorant idiotic fools who deserve less than dirt. But for some reason our government will accept any little low life and help the survive on our tax money. Residue.
The residue on the knife looked so much like blood it made her skin crawl. She shivered at the thought. Where had be been? What happened? He acted funny , nervous when she asked him,told the knife wasn’t his.
Ressssiiiiddduuuuee… idk what that is . actually i sortaq know know but i don’t really know how to describe or use it in a sentence… i don’t know…. hmmmm….
wet residue leaking fluid from the depth of the can poring out left behind sad and alone. all that remains sticky residue subsides and is all left behind within the mind.
residue stuff left over. For example “look at the residue from the rain on that leaf”. Droplets or substance left over. Stuff. Im not thinking. PEACE OEACE PEACE PESACE PEAVE ccomo hugargyg
the sticky residue resides on daniel’s jacket. I am afraid to ruin the leather, so I stopped trying to remove the strong tape that creates this residue.
That sounds gross. It’s the kind of slick on your thighs from too much lovemaking. My mind is in the gutter terribly; I’m sorry. I see mold and wax and unwanted things, sticky and creeping and destitute. Some sort of crawling creature, like a snail, leaving behind a trail of slime.
My fingers were sticky with sap from the tree. Dammit, why wouldn’t they just leave me alone? I thought as the rubbed my scared finger tips, trying to remember what brought me to be in this pine tree, hiding, while my so-called friends hurled rocks at me, as if I was the target and this was a simple game.
the left overs stuck to the plate, the bowl. No matter how hard you scrub, it sticks, it stinks, it leaves a mark that taunts forever more. But a soak, a complete bath, with warm, sometime scalding water, a baptism, will clear it. Forever the mark is gone
This world is made out of snippets and traces of things long gone and unremembered. There’s a ring on the table from some old cup of tea that I forgot I had, and a crusty residue desperately clinging to the counter from a snack so many hours ago, about to be obliterated by a damp napkin without a second thought. This world is made out of faded marks. That bruise from the desk, that cut from the knife, that book flung into the corner with resigned hopelessness and mounting anger at anything at all. In a minute, hour, week, someone will pick it up, shake out the pages, , and never even wonder why the cover is bent. An unnoticed zero in the grade book for missing assignment, kept in the folder with your letter, and the salty residue of a tear that dries as I finally sleep.
i saw all this black residue on the backseat of my car and i couldn’t help but think it was from the god damned fucking alien that shit all over my car the night before. the fucker came down from the light and looked in my eyes, smiled, and literally, fucking shit all over the hood of my car. i thought the first encounter with aliens would be a bit more life altering, but instead it was just me cleaning shit off my car.
_He had the scent._ The world blurred around him, as he inhaled slowly, something that was more than just an aroma finding specialized receptors, triggering a response that was as visceral as it was pleasant.
“Wait! Grab a map!” Jensen shouted to the Ninja Babe. She quickly grabbed the iPad unit and they both, hand in hand, fled the accident scene. the mental residue of the the crash and the decisions they made in its aftermath quickly faded away as they ran through the empty streets.
the residue hid on the greasy window pain that wiped away my tears of hope.
It killed the weakness and love the made my heart beat.
it’s crap. i associate nothing good with it. i think of a tub, a ring of dead skin cells. gross.
The thick substance had just planted itself in my mind as a nasty reminder of all that the past had given me in it’s hands of wax. The wax of forged relationships, upon lies and deceit. She cheated, lied, and never truly accepted me. Our relationship became a scam and a sham upon which we lied often.
There is a residue on my body. The remaining sweat on my face dissipated into a thin layer of salt as I drove home in the hot driver’s seat. Damn I need a shower. A really good one.
The thick substance had just planted itself in my mind as a nasty reminder of all that the past had given me in it’s hands of wax. The wax of forged relationships, upon lies and deceit. She cheated, lied, and never truly accepted me.
When I think of residue, I just think of mess. I hate messes especially when a cold drink leaves that horrible wet residue on the counter or side table. Then you find yourself sweeping your sleeve through it. What are you left with? Water on your sleeve. You don’t notice it until you can feel the cold wetness touching your skin. If you’re like me, you roll up your sleeve but now you have to roll up the other one. Then your sleeves are stretched out. It’s horrible..horrible..horrible.
the residue she found on her sheets was becoming sticky as it dried. looking over to her left she saw the love of her life sleeping peacefully beside her. she now knew what that mysterious residue left on her sheets was. laying back down she looked back on the memories from the night before. She hadn’t know exactly how lovely it could be to be that close to someone.
a slight russling of the sheets warned her that he was moving again. his arm wrapped around her bare waist and pulled her as close as possible.
Today I slipped on some slimy , stinky green residue. I was appalled, not only because this goo was now on the bottom of my foot, but also because none of the men decided to clean it up. Needless to say i was horrified!
your love left this saddening residue on my soul. the light takes it in, recoils, feeds it to darkness. if the residue wasn’t there, i’d be content. nothing more then that.
the residue of the semen is all over the bed and eww some is in my hair ugghhh blaahhhh blaarrrggghhhh sorry i mean what is the residue i don’t even know what that word means.
Today I went into the shower and slipped on some slimy, stinky, green residue. I was so angry, and screamed at the top of my lungs. I proceeded to go back to my room, fuming, and wondering why these mad men could not simply clean up for themselves!
fuck you nasty muddy residue
you leave me hanging by my shoe
wiping that shit off the bottom
always hoping shits not rotted
in the cracks of my shoe
i hate you stupid residue
When I think of this word I think about my nasty shower curtain that has fungus on it. Its such a gross word. Or something at the end bottom of a cup of juice. Not an attractive word I believe.
A greyish powder lined the test tube – it had not been cleaned after the previous experiment.
Residue is like mess… something left over when you don’t want it to be. The remains of something.
residue. residue. tis a silly word, residue. there seems to be an oily residue on my iPad screen, stupid teenage skin…
I fill out the application form, knowing how momentous this is. I can’t turn back from this now. This is the first moment that is utterly irrevocable. I can’t fix this if I get it wrong, but somehow I know that I’ve made the right choice.
Nothing left. White, chalky, can’t remove it without scrubbing with steel wool. It’s still there, just go away.
nothing left, just the ash, my life burnt well.
The residue of you still sits on my skin
I have not bathed for fear it wash away
what I have left of you
the memories will slip down the drain
follow the sewer pipes and land
where it belongs
piled on top
it’s residue. of what? I have know IDEA. I could be poetic about this word and say something about the residue of a broken heart. I could be less cliche and write about the residue of
Every morning your eyes open. Scruff is left from yesterday. And I am reminded.
leftover. sticky. dirty. annoying.
I was cleaning my bedroom on tuesday. While doing so my mother asked if I could also clean the bathroom. I agreed and went on to clean the shower. In the bottom of the shower there was left over RESDUE. It was despicably disgusting. I was utterly traumatized. Next time I don’t think I will agree to clean the bathroom…
Trash, left over, nasty, gross, despicable, disgusting, gunk.
Jamie’s fingers smell like lighter fluid, or was it gasoline? Either way, the residue is hanging heavy in the air between them. Conrad feels sick from it or maybe just from what they just had to do. The cab of Jamie’s car is too small. The world feels too small.
I see the residue of the ways the tears have left your skin. And I realise what I have done.
For Ill always blame myself.
No longer will you live faithfully to yourself.
Most people today in society are residue compared to the good souls I call my friends. The general public are all ignorant idiotic fools who deserve less than dirt. But for some reason our government will accept any little low life and help the survive on our tax money. Residue.
The residue on the knife looked so much like blood it made her skin crawl. She shivered at the thought. Where had be been? What happened? He acted funny , nervous when she asked him,told the knife wasn’t his.
Ressssiiiiddduuuuee… idk what that is . actually i sortaq know know but i don’t really know how to describe or use it in a sentence… i don’t know…. hmmmm….
wet residue leaking fluid from the depth of the can poring out left behind sad and alone. all that remains sticky residue subsides and is all left behind within the mind.
residue stuff left over. For example “look at the residue from the rain on that leaf”. Droplets or substance left over. Stuff. Im not thinking. PEACE OEACE PEACE PESACE PEAVE ccomo hugargyg
I feel the residue of failure still… Infused within the marrow in my bones. I was never scared of failure.. It was the success.
the sticky residue resides on daniel’s jacket. I am afraid to ruin the leather, so I stopped trying to remove the strong tape that creates this residue.
That sounds gross. It’s the kind of slick on your thighs from too much lovemaking. My mind is in the gutter terribly; I’m sorry. I see mold and wax and unwanted things, sticky and creeping and destitute. Some sort of crawling creature, like a snail, leaving behind a trail of slime.
My fingers were sticky with sap from the tree. Dammit, why wouldn’t they just leave me alone? I thought as the rubbed my scared finger tips, trying to remember what brought me to be in this pine tree, hiding, while my so-called friends hurled rocks at me, as if I was the target and this was a simple game.
the left overs stuck to the plate, the bowl. No matter how hard you scrub, it sticks, it stinks, it leaves a mark that taunts forever more. But a soak, a complete bath, with warm, sometime scalding water, a baptism, will clear it. Forever the mark is gone
This world is made out of snippets and traces of things long gone and unremembered. There’s a ring on the table from some old cup of tea that I forgot I had, and a crusty residue desperately clinging to the counter from a snack so many hours ago, about to be obliterated by a damp napkin without a second thought. This world is made out of faded marks. That bruise from the desk, that cut from the knife, that book flung into the corner with resigned hopelessness and mounting anger at anything at all. In a minute, hour, week, someone will pick it up, shake out the pages, , and never even wonder why the cover is bent. An unnoticed zero in the grade book for missing assignment, kept in the folder with your letter, and the salty residue of a tear that dries as I finally sleep.