The soap was slippery and wet, leaving bubbles in my hand. The lavender scent soothed me and calmed my nerves, putting the day in perspective. Its slick surface was like a clean slate, something that should inspire me in this place in my life.
I just want to get clean-
So I take a bath, take the soap in with me. Like a bar of chicken-broth jade. Green and translucent. As gelled and shining as an eye.
I want to eat it, want to be clean inside. I want to smell like old green stone. But I can’t. The water grows cold. I scrub and scrub but the grime clings.
I don;t like using it. It makes my skin dry. However I think it can be precious especially when you don;t have it. Actually I just read a very funny story about a person who had a soap problem in the hotel where he was staying, In fact, the hotel management and employees had a problem with the guy cause basically he was a pain in the ass. He kept complaining about having too much soap delivered in his room, and when the maids stopped leaving him soap, he complained he didn’t have any. I wonder how he got the nerves to write so many notes about something so unimportant.
He tried to clean himself
of the deeds he had done
for the promises of gold
frankenstein’s secrets,
and myrrh,
But was unable to wash the crystallized residue from his hands and feet.
There was now something in the water,
And he would always be a part of it.
I am afraid he will slip out of my hands like a bar of soap does. Most times it feels like we are solid, and that nothing will change. But I get scared. People come and go so easily, flickering in and out of your life, and I don’t want that for us. I want to be the consistency for him that everyone deserves.
There are few smells I enjoy more than that of soap. It reminds me of crisp mornings and promises kept. It transports me to a time of beginning. And for a few moments I feel the slate is clear and all is mine to pursue. What lovely dreams and hope the scent of soap carries with it! All imagined is possible! Its shape, size, or colour is of no importance. It is all wonderful.
I like white rooms. They feel larger and their clean walls begin to twist and play a little game as I stare at them. I like white rooms. They’re clean unless people enter them and smear their filth on the floor and ceiling. I like white rooms. I like white rooms. If only they would take me out of this white room and white jacket and there’s so much soapy clean white, oh how I like white rooms.
I constantly need to remind myself to be self-aware. Because yes, my default setting is to be self-centered and negative and blaming. So wash my faulty logic away. I need to be cleansed.
I sucked the water out, swamping around me in jell-o like puddles. I turned the water off, it left with a defiant hiss. Falling against the chilled bathroom panels slowly, I reached the floor. Knees brought to chin and strange arms resting at my sides. I couldn’t feel a thing, just noticed that the inside of my thighs were stained with soap and my insides stained with far more damaging things than that.
so glide away on soapy heels
and promise not to promise anymore and if
you come around again
then I will take
then I will take
the chain
from off
the door.
i love soap it makes you clean. when you’re all dirty you can just lather the soap up in the shower and have a god damned cleaning party with yourself. i can’t think of anything more satisfying. and when the bubbles dry and it’s all wrinkly. yay
After the abortion fiasco, Ariadne’s hair began to fall out. Steel stood by her side and reminded her that he’d taken an oath to love her, rich or poor, fat or skinny, in sickness and in health, with hair or without hair. She realized after the nightclub fire that he hadn’t vowed to love her with skin or without. But it was too late.
Soap smells so fresh. Mexicans don’t know about it yet, but the rest of North America uses it on a daily basis unless they’re homeless. Soap makes you feel good when you’re itchy and dirty, but it makes you itchy if you’re already clean. That’s strange huh. Soap
i wish i could use soap and scrub away all my dreams. the last few weeks, practically every dream consisted of cheating on my boyfriend with another. it wouldn’t be so bad if i didn’t enjoy those dreams but i’ve always found myself wanting to go back to bed to continue that dream.
I just wrote about soap a second ago…I guess I can just sit here and think about the memories of writing about soap…ahhh soap. I love soap. Soap makes me clean.
Soapy, sudsy, bubbly mess. But the most fun I have had in years. Cold water, warm day, hot night. The happiest I have been in so long. Dirty car, clean sheets. Memories that will never fade, will never leave like you have to. But for now this is enough. This is something, which is more than nothing. Maybe not forever, but it is now.
I used soap to wash every part of my body that you touched. I scrubbed the skin over and over and over and over and over and over again but I could still feel your existence coating every layer.
Once I was sure that the soap was ineffective, I tried sodium hydroxide. At least the pain was enough to distract me, though it still did not get rid of you.
My hands are stained and even soap cannot cleanse them from sin. The blood clings to my skin as a constant reminder of my wickedness. I look up from the sink and my gaze lands on a narrow face with hollow cheeks and haunted, pitiless eyes. I look at my reflection and all I see is the monster that only the blackening of the soul can accomplish. There is a loud knock on the door and I know that I will have to open door and let my remorse flood in. Looking around the dingy bathroom, I know that this is where my innocence will be forever buried. When I finish washing my hands, I know that I will have to shape a mask that will not only fool the world, but will also fool my conscience.
It wasn’t very interesting. Just soap. Plain yellow soap, with a little bird printed into the center. It was strange, then, that I was so annoyed about its loss; there were so many others just like it.
I was standing on a bar of soap the other day and when I realized it was when I slipped and fell on the back of my head. I passed out and didn’t wake up for 7 hours! I will never stand on a bar of soap again… unless i’m on my soap box
I like soap because it is self-cleansing. But it can’t commit when I need it most. I am looking for hygiene but in order to achieve hygiene I must obtain security on the soap’s part. However the soap refuses to be stable. Soap can be harsh.
clean dirty soap hands wash water air bubbles bath fun many different types of soap i love bubble baths and children and sponges and just having a nice time with soap because it feels like a fresh start soa
Bubbles form as I lather my hands over and over again. I refuse to stop because I am afraid of what will happen once I wash the soap off and dry my hands with the towel. I dont want to turn the door knob. I dont want to open the door. I dont want to walk out into…..
*Game show host voice* All right folks its time to choose your own ending. Is she…
A) Kidnapped and doesn’t want to face her abductor
B) About to get married
C) Trying to stall having to make an important business presentation
D) At her very first art gallery opening
E) A total germaphobe who is afraid of the world
F) A teenage girl who has random writing mood swings that switch her from dramatic to cheesy in a millisecond.
If you guessed that the writer was F you are correct
*Buzzers ding as lights flash and audiences cheer. A gorgeous supermodel sashays out to hand you your grand prize.*
When my grandmother first arrived in the U.S, she couldn’t speak english and so upon going to a restaurant to it, there was a hilarious mixup. My grandmother wanted to order soup but she didn’t know whether it was called soup or soap and she accidentally ordered soap. The waiter decided to be a smartass-whole and brought her a bar of soap. My grandmother never went to the U.S again.
I sat in the shower, the soap stinging my eyes and the steam smothering me. How could anybody truly enjoy a hot shower when all it did was scald you, burn you, just like the rest of the day?
My tears mixed with the water running down my face and disappeared forever into the drain.
Washing the last of the soap from her body, she stepped from beneath the spray and turned off the water. Shaking her still wet hair from her face and moving to the mirror, she raised a hand to wipe away the steam.
“What’re you doing?” she asked, meeting her eyes in the glass. “Goddess,” she whispered, the term just as heavy with desperation as it was reverence. “Help me,”
I use it in the shower. It keeps me smelling nice and fresh. There are various different types of fragrances, you can go from ocean breeze to lemon lime! I also once heard that it is made from animal and human fat, that is a disturbing thought. Soap! Soap! Soapity Soap!
A Christmas Story. Soap is punishment. Soap is also something that calms my anxiety. Not as well as bleach, though. I’m trying to wean myself off of some soaps, though, as my hair is extremely dried out!
Rubber duckies.
I remember when I was little. I always wanted to have a bath. I mean, what was my obsession with cleanliness!? I mean, I wanted to use up the whole soap bar, all of the bubble bath, a whole cupful of shampoo and conditioner for like, a few centimeters of hair… Yeah. I was a real sensible child.
what was your name again?
hey look, my apartment was blown up and i don’t have any place to go at the moment, so, uhm.. – just ask. – .. whait what? ask you what? – come on, just ask, if you can crash at my place. – oh.. ah right. so uhm can i sleep at your place? – yeah sure.
what was your name again?
durden.
tyler durden.
The coconut scent wafts up in the warm steam, promises of sunshine and surf, and I am transported to an exotic island for a few moments watching dolphins playing in the surf. But then the banging on the door brings me back to reality with a thud-thud-thud: “Mom! Mom! Suzie doesn’t want to share with me!”
The soap was slippery and wet, leaving bubbles in my hand. The lavender scent soothed me and calmed my nerves, putting the day in perspective. Its slick surface was like a clean slate, something that should inspire me in this place in my life.
I just want to get clean-
So I take a bath, take the soap in with me. Like a bar of chicken-broth jade. Green and translucent. As gelled and shining as an eye.
I want to eat it, want to be clean inside. I want to smell like old green stone. But I can’t. The water grows cold. I scrub and scrub but the grime clings.
soap smells good, feels good, it cleans the skin washing away sins, bubbles to lessen troubles. clean thinking reigns.
I don;t like using it. It makes my skin dry. However I think it can be precious especially when you don;t have it. Actually I just read a very funny story about a person who had a soap problem in the hotel where he was staying, In fact, the hotel management and employees had a problem with the guy cause basically he was a pain in the ass. He kept complaining about having too much soap delivered in his room, and when the maids stopped leaving him soap, he complained he didn’t have any. I wonder how he got the nerves to write so many notes about something so unimportant.
He tried to clean himself
of the deeds he had done
for the promises of gold
frankenstein’s secrets,
and myrrh,
But was unable to wash the crystallized residue from his hands and feet.
There was now something in the water,
And he would always be a part of it.
I am afraid he will slip out of my hands like a bar of soap does. Most times it feels like we are solid, and that nothing will change. But I get scared. People come and go so easily, flickering in and out of your life, and I don’t want that for us. I want to be the consistency for him that everyone deserves.
There are few smells I enjoy more than that of soap. It reminds me of crisp mornings and promises kept. It transports me to a time of beginning. And for a few moments I feel the slate is clear and all is mine to pursue. What lovely dreams and hope the scent of soap carries with it! All imagined is possible! Its shape, size, or colour is of no importance. It is all wonderful.
Sudsy & refreshing, the ultimate blessing during a catastrophe. Simple & unglorified, but priceless when scarce.
It keeps me clean. It smells nice. I like it.
I like white rooms. They feel larger and their clean walls begin to twist and play a little game as I stare at them. I like white rooms. They’re clean unless people enter them and smear their filth on the floor and ceiling. I like white rooms. I like white rooms. If only they would take me out of this white room and white jacket and there’s so much soapy clean white, oh how I like white rooms.
I constantly need to remind myself to be self-aware. Because yes, my default setting is to be self-centered and negative and blaming. So wash my faulty logic away. I need to be cleansed.
I sucked the water out, swamping around me in jell-o like puddles. I turned the water off, it left with a defiant hiss. Falling against the chilled bathroom panels slowly, I reached the floor. Knees brought to chin and strange arms resting at my sides. I couldn’t feel a thing, just noticed that the inside of my thighs were stained with soap and my insides stained with far more damaging things than that.
soap…
reminds me of the pope for some odd reason.
something to rub yourself clean,
of all the little impurities of life.
the dirt under your fingernails rinses clean,
the nitty gritty in your hair just seems to seep away
and all that’s left is a sparkle of…
soap.
something
organic
and
pure.
so glide away on soapy heels
and promise not to promise anymore and if
you come around again
then I will take
then I will take
the chain
from off
the door.
-I.M.
He lathered his hands with the soap then ran it up and down his arms. She smiled from behind him, and their eyes met in the mirror.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Oh, yes.” she said, “Quite.”
“Hmm.” he said, “Long day.”
“I believe it was.” she said, and smiled, “Are you tired?”
“Exhausted.”
She pursed her lips, “Darling,” she said, “I’m afraid–“
i love soap it makes you clean. when you’re all dirty you can just lather the soap up in the shower and have a god damned cleaning party with yourself. i can’t think of anything more satisfying. and when the bubbles dry and it’s all wrinkly. yay
After the abortion fiasco, Ariadne’s hair began to fall out. Steel stood by her side and reminded her that he’d taken an oath to love her, rich or poor, fat or skinny, in sickness and in health, with hair or without hair. She realized after the nightclub fire that he hadn’t vowed to love her with skin or without. But it was too late.
Soap smells so fresh. Mexicans don’t know about it yet, but the rest of North America uses it on a daily basis unless they’re homeless. Soap makes you feel good when you’re itchy and dirty, but it makes you itchy if you’re already clean. That’s strange huh. Soap
i wish i could use soap and scrub away all my dreams. the last few weeks, practically every dream consisted of cheating on my boyfriend with another. it wouldn’t be so bad if i didn’t enjoy those dreams but i’ve always found myself wanting to go back to bed to continue that dream.
I saw the bar of soap and ate it. No comment no questions. It was the day that I went crazy ;P -By Maria Tkachuk
soap is fresh and clean. it makes me think of long soaks in the tub on the farm where i grew up. it is white, pink, blue, green, brown. bubbles!
I just wrote about soap a second ago…I guess I can just sit here and think about the memories of writing about soap…ahhh soap. I love soap. Soap makes me clean.
Soapy, sudsy, bubbly mess. But the most fun I have had in years. Cold water, warm day, hot night. The happiest I have been in so long. Dirty car, clean sheets. Memories that will never fade, will never leave like you have to. But for now this is enough. This is something, which is more than nothing. Maybe not forever, but it is now.
I used soap to wash every part of my body that you touched. I scrubbed the skin over and over and over and over and over and over again but I could still feel your existence coating every layer.
Once I was sure that the soap was ineffective, I tried sodium hydroxide. At least the pain was enough to distract me, though it still did not get rid of you.
My hands are stained and even soap cannot cleanse them from sin. The blood clings to my skin as a constant reminder of my wickedness. I look up from the sink and my gaze lands on a narrow face with hollow cheeks and haunted, pitiless eyes. I look at my reflection and all I see is the monster that only the blackening of the soul can accomplish. There is a loud knock on the door and I know that I will have to open door and let my remorse flood in. Looking around the dingy bathroom, I know that this is where my innocence will be forever buried. When I finish washing my hands, I know that I will have to shape a mask that will not only fool the world, but will also fool my conscience.
It wasn’t very interesting. Just soap. Plain yellow soap, with a little bird printed into the center. It was strange, then, that I was so annoyed about its loss; there were so many others just like it.
soap soap soap soap
I was standing on a bar of soap the other day and when I realized it was when I slipped and fell on the back of my head. I passed out and didn’t wake up for 7 hours! I will never stand on a bar of soap again… unless i’m on my soap box
I like soap because it is self-cleansing. But it can’t commit when I need it most. I am looking for hygiene but in order to achieve hygiene I must obtain security on the soap’s part. However the soap refuses to be stable. Soap can be harsh.
clean dirty soap hands wash water air bubbles bath fun many different types of soap i love bubble baths and children and sponges and just having a nice time with soap because it feels like a fresh start soa
Bubbles form as I lather my hands over and over again. I refuse to stop because I am afraid of what will happen once I wash the soap off and dry my hands with the towel. I dont want to turn the door knob. I dont want to open the door. I dont want to walk out into…..
*Game show host voice* All right folks its time to choose your own ending. Is she…
A) Kidnapped and doesn’t want to face her abductor
B) About to get married
C) Trying to stall having to make an important business presentation
D) At her very first art gallery opening
E) A total germaphobe who is afraid of the world
F) A teenage girl who has random writing mood swings that switch her from dramatic to cheesy in a millisecond.
If you guessed that the writer was F you are correct
*Buzzers ding as lights flash and audiences cheer. A gorgeous supermodel sashays out to hand you your grand prize.*
When my grandmother first arrived in the U.S, she couldn’t speak english and so upon going to a restaurant to it, there was a hilarious mixup. My grandmother wanted to order soup but she didn’t know whether it was called soup or soap and she accidentally ordered soap. The waiter decided to be a smartass-whole and brought her a bar of soap. My grandmother never went to the U.S again.
I sat in the shower, the soap stinging my eyes and the steam smothering me. How could anybody truly enjoy a hot shower when all it did was scald you, burn you, just like the rest of the day?
My tears mixed with the water running down my face and disappeared forever into the drain.
Washing the last of the soap from her body, she stepped from beneath the spray and turned off the water. Shaking her still wet hair from her face and moving to the mirror, she raised a hand to wipe away the steam.
“What’re you doing?” she asked, meeting her eyes in the glass. “Goddess,” she whispered, the term just as heavy with desperation as it was reverence. “Help me,”
I use it in the shower. It keeps me smelling nice and fresh. There are various different types of fragrances, you can go from ocean breeze to lemon lime! I also once heard that it is made from animal and human fat, that is a disturbing thought. Soap! Soap! Soapity Soap!
A Christmas Story. Soap is punishment. Soap is also something that calms my anxiety. Not as well as bleach, though. I’m trying to wean myself off of some soaps, though, as my hair is extremely dried out!
Rubber duckies.
I remember when I was little. I always wanted to have a bath. I mean, what was my obsession with cleanliness!? I mean, I wanted to use up the whole soap bar, all of the bubble bath, a whole cupful of shampoo and conditioner for like, a few centimeters of hair… Yeah. I was a real sensible child.
what was your name again?
hey look, my apartment was blown up and i don’t have any place to go at the moment, so, uhm.. – just ask. – .. whait what? ask you what? – come on, just ask, if you can crash at my place. – oh.. ah right. so uhm can i sleep at your place? – yeah sure.
what was your name again?
durden.
tyler durden.
smell
good
clean
bubbles
relax
smooth
sweet
colours
bath
water
jummy
eat
round
childhood
red
strawberry
yellow
The coconut scent wafts up in the warm steam, promises of sunshine and surf, and I am transported to an exotic island for a few moments watching dolphins playing in the surf. But then the banging on the door brings me back to reality with a thud-thud-thud: “Mom! Mom! Suzie doesn’t want to share with me!”