I thought my mother was trying to cook again. But she must finally be insane. Spinning round and round in the microwave on a paper plate is a yellow sponge. Soap bubbling up from it. Steam trailing off when the microwave dings and I look on in confusion.
“I really feel like I should wash myself tonight. And by that I mean get into the shower. This week’s been a bitch so it might as well help rather than make it worse. Hmm. Maybe I should jump. Yes, I guess the window’s got a pretty nice view. I bet it looks even better from the outside. Yeah. I’ll jump. Hmm. But first, the shower, then I’ll kill myself.”
sponge reminds me of sponge-bob
Spongebob reminds me of my childhood
my childhood reminds me of home
home reminds me of the time of innocent
innocence reminds me of the time i was truly happy
Happy reminds me of what life needs and should be
yeah i know of sponges
you know them too
the folks that do anything
to be like you
to just be around you
to soak you up
spit you out
drain you
hate you
to be in anyway like you
to soaking up anything great and unique
you have to offer the world
she sat on the counter staring at it. dispising it. is this my life now. is this counter top my fortress, i its queen, hating myself. how am i here and why. this sponge. this failure. my energy has been soaked into this mass of ingenious invention that may just kill me.
sponge
oh yeah
I know these types
so do you
the kind of people that are unoriginal
that soak up
our creativity
our own ideas
our individiduality
our personalities
our traits
of those other qualities
that set us apart from the rest
welcome to Indianapolis
Absorbant. Little fingers poke through the holes, grabbing at the other side. Only suds live on the other side, though. Tiny bubbles that you can’t even pop. The kids are sorely disappointed.
Like a sponge, I absorb all the love you give me.
All the memories, the hugs, the smiles; I’ll carry them with me forever.
The drawback is that all the criticism and vilification is absorbed too, and those are wounds that I will carry with me forever.
He looked up with wonder. The room vast and alluring. A sponge to a world unknown. A bright future with no sad past. No regret. No sorrow. Just love and perfection.
in your arms i soak in your warmth and
kind words, your care and
shining eyes. it weighs heavily across my back and i
strip down once you’ve gone,
sit through the shivers humming under this
salt-stained skin.
i don’t love you and i’m sorry, i’m sorry,
i want to be sorry.
like a sponge, i think–lunges glued with all the tar. & unhinged from all things i expected, i don’t seem to care. i take a deeper breath this time & sputter and cough. so dizzy. i’ve cursed more the past two weeks than in my entire lifetime. what now?
Spongebob Squarepants is the best. I had a room full of it and dedicated to him. I had bedsheets, window treatments, computer accessories, bathroom stuff. I had it all. And plus I had the coolest spongebob clothes. :) yeah i was rocking back in the day.
We were empty; wrung, brick pits of everlasting depth holding air. And we waited for that liquid, that moisture, that water, that something to fill us up, like sponges.
I wanted to take in everything; experience all that I could. And I had to drop what was holding me back. They prevented my roots from spreading out and reaching into the deep soil. Freed of the weeds, I blossomed into someone I never imagined in my wildest dreams. I was a better version of me, and that’s all I could ask for.
He had soaked it all up: the good, the bad, and everything in between. He had seen the love between his parents, but he had also watched it disintegrate, violently. He had felt the love of his friends, but had seen the petty schoolyard fights. He’d loved his first girlfriend but keenly remembered how it felt when they broke up.
He was a sponge but he didn’t know why he had to absorb it all.
Saturated, soaking, laden with black tar sludge, squishing step by step to a brighter street corner. Trudging and limping and shuffling with the weight of pain turned to molasses in a sponge.
soak the sponge then ring the sponge sponges get dirty sponges get wet like fat people doing jumping lunges..sponges help toclean up your lunges..bithces complain may as well have a sponge in there mouth..sponges make it okay to get messy. sponge bath while smoking grass soak it rub it sqeeuze it nnn go let it drip..ahh.
I took it, over and over again, soaked up his words and touch, held it like a sponge, never let anyone in on my secret. Bruises covered my body where no one could see. No one would believe me. Celebrity boyfriends don’t beat their girlfriends.
She still thrashes around like a little girl in a temper tantrum. She curses and smokes and cries and wails.And he soaks up all that hurt, all that pain, in the off-chance that she changes.
I stared blankly into the sink. Squeeze. I looked back, trying to remember the last time I laughed. Squeeze. Remembered when the word ‘friend’ didn’t make me cringe. Squeeze. When the marks on my skin were accidental and so was any loneliness. Squeeze.
It was a strange consistency, sponge like, but more coarse. It almost resembled steel wool. And yet it was a rock. It was hard to imagine this was what a meteor felt like.
People are like sponges. They tell each other secrets, and leak out what was not suppose to be said. Anger is splattered all around, and the world soon becomes angry at that one person who let that secret out.
absorbing what comes to it, not having a choice of whether it wants to absorb such a thing. doe not have a but does not complain. it can absorb anything in a variety of sizes but it never denies it.
soaking in every move you make. the contradicting, refreshing bits of your lecture. every bit of advice, instruction, and criticism you give me – and your humor. your every adventure. every last simmering detail of your stories. all your perspectives, your positivity, and your compassion. your open-mindedness and understanding. your admiration. your excitement. your knowledge. your art. the dispositions of each. my own use of these so that i can expand on them. i love you and i hope that you can saturate in that. and perhaps, for some of you, i hope that these feelings are mutual so that we may immerse one another in our love.
i absorb.
i take in.
i clean
and i win,
at nothing
but living
life
as an earthling,
the type
who is humble
yet holds
her own.
i pick up
and put back
what i take
and i earn.
“Soak up all of your emotions- like a sponge. And never let them loose, for they’ll be your downfall.” My mother underlined this point to me when I was only 8. And forever more, I’m a sponge.
It is easy to soak up the worlds of others. It is another thing to soak up the world you live in on your own. And it is another thing to be one who is absorbed by others through tender influences of kindness and compassion.
Along a long and desolate dirt road there lay a solitary item, fat and squishy in its texture, and porous in its notability. Into this little sponge would dirt flow, and out of would come steam and water.
Sponge. Sponge is the texture of the potato fries served in high school. Sponge is the thing that everyone knows lives under the sea, and likes to pretend that it lives specifically in a pineapple. Sponge is, to me, the best way to describe a child’s expanding mind during those first ten years.
Who lives in a pineapple under the sea… hahaha. On a less funny note, there’s a sink full of dishes I must do. Thanks goodness for abandoning homework….
sometimes i wish that my son didn’t absorb everything like a sponge. children can see and hear everything, including everything that you don’t want them to see and hear. it would be nice if their spongieness was relative or selective and only happened when things were appropriate. a mom can dream can’t she?
Brains are like sponges in a way. Able to absorb infinite knowledge like a sponge and do other cool stuff. Brain don’t give a s–. Rightio i could go for some chips right about now. Absorbing all that food until someone comes and gives you a squeeze and everything just plops out on the floor. mmmm sounds good
It soaks up all that is around it. It’s in a deep sea of both positive and negative things. It simply soaks up it all, so who’s to say what kind of person I am?
Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Spongebob Squarepants! Absorbent and yellow and porous is he! Spongebob Squarepants! If nautical nonsense is something you wish, Spongebob Squarepants! Then blub on the deck and flop like a fish! Spongebob Squarepants! Ready? Spongebob Squarepants, Spongebob Squarepants, Spongebobbbbb Squarepantssss! Arrrharharhar hua har har har
I thought my mother was trying to cook again. But she must finally be insane. Spinning round and round in the microwave on a paper plate is a yellow sponge. Soap bubbling up from it. Steam trailing off when the microwave dings and I look on in confusion.
“I really feel like I should wash myself tonight. And by that I mean get into the shower. This week’s been a bitch so it might as well help rather than make it worse. Hmm. Maybe I should jump. Yes, I guess the window’s got a pretty nice view. I bet it looks even better from the outside. Yeah. I’ll jump. Hmm. But first, the shower, then I’ll kill myself.”
sponge reminds me of sponge-bob
Spongebob reminds me of my childhood
my childhood reminds me of home
home reminds me of the time of innocent
innocence reminds me of the time i was truly happy
Happy reminds me of what life needs and should be
yeah i know of sponges
you know them too
the folks that do anything
to be like you
to just be around you
to soak you up
spit you out
drain you
hate you
to be in anyway like you
to soaking up anything great and unique
you have to offer the world
she sat on the counter staring at it. dispising it. is this my life now. is this counter top my fortress, i its queen, hating myself. how am i here and why. this sponge. this failure. my energy has been soaked into this mass of ingenious invention that may just kill me.
sponge
oh yeah
I know these types
so do you
the kind of people that are unoriginal
that soak up
our creativity
our own ideas
our individiduality
our personalities
our traits
of those other qualities
that set us apart from the rest
welcome to Indianapolis
Absorbant. Little fingers poke through the holes, grabbing at the other side. Only suds live on the other side, though. Tiny bubbles that you can’t even pop. The kids are sorely disappointed.
Like a sponge, I absorb all the love you give me.
All the memories, the hugs, the smiles; I’ll carry them with me forever.
The drawback is that all the criticism and vilification is absorbed too, and those are wounds that I will carry with me forever.
He looked up with wonder. The room vast and alluring. A sponge to a world unknown. A bright future with no sad past. No regret. No sorrow. Just love and perfection.
in your arms i soak in your warmth and
kind words, your care and
shining eyes. it weighs heavily across my back and i
strip down once you’ve gone,
sit through the shivers humming under this
salt-stained skin.
i don’t love you and i’m sorry, i’m sorry,
i want to be sorry.
sponge….uummmm……SEA CUCUMBER–wait, what? yeah…..can’t think of anything epic to write about a sponge…..sorry guys…
like a sponge, i think–lunges glued with all the tar. & unhinged from all things i expected, i don’t seem to care. i take a deeper breath this time & sputter and cough. so dizzy. i’ve cursed more the past two weeks than in my entire lifetime. what now?
Spongebob Squarepants is the best. I had a room full of it and dedicated to him. I had bedsheets, window treatments, computer accessories, bathroom stuff. I had it all. And plus I had the coolest spongebob clothes. :) yeah i was rocking back in the day.
We were empty; wrung, brick pits of everlasting depth holding air. And we waited for that liquid, that moisture, that water, that something to fill us up, like sponges.
I wanted to take in everything; experience all that I could. And I had to drop what was holding me back. They prevented my roots from spreading out and reaching into the deep soil. Freed of the weeds, I blossomed into someone I never imagined in my wildest dreams. I was a better version of me, and that’s all I could ask for.
He had soaked it all up: the good, the bad, and everything in between. He had seen the love between his parents, but he had also watched it disintegrate, violently. He had felt the love of his friends, but had seen the petty schoolyard fights. He’d loved his first girlfriend but keenly remembered how it felt when they broke up.
He was a sponge but he didn’t know why he had to absorb it all.
Saturated, soaking, laden with black tar sludge, squishing step by step to a brighter street corner. Trudging and limping and shuffling with the weight of pain turned to molasses in a sponge.
soak the sponge then ring the sponge sponges get dirty sponges get wet like fat people doing jumping lunges..sponges help toclean up your lunges..bithces complain may as well have a sponge in there mouth..sponges make it okay to get messy. sponge bath while smoking grass soak it rub it sqeeuze it nnn go let it drip..ahh.
I took it, over and over again, soaked up his words and touch, held it like a sponge, never let anyone in on my secret. Bruises covered my body where no one could see. No one would believe me. Celebrity boyfriends don’t beat their girlfriends.
She still thrashes around like a little girl in a temper tantrum. She curses and smokes and cries and wails.And he soaks up all that hurt, all that pain, in the off-chance that she changes.
I stared blankly into the sink. Squeeze. I looked back, trying to remember the last time I laughed. Squeeze. Remembered when the word ‘friend’ didn’t make me cringe. Squeeze. When the marks on my skin were accidental and so was any loneliness. Squeeze.
It was a strange consistency, sponge like, but more coarse. It almost resembled steel wool. And yet it was a rock. It was hard to imagine this was what a meteor felt like.
People are like sponges. They tell each other secrets, and leak out what was not suppose to be said. Anger is splattered all around, and the world soon becomes angry at that one person who let that secret out.
absorbing what comes to it, not having a choice of whether it wants to absorb such a thing. doe not have a but does not complain. it can absorb anything in a variety of sizes but it never denies it.
My sponge Oh my sweet sponge filled with rust and the dust of dead flesh
soaking in every move you make. the contradicting, refreshing bits of your lecture. every bit of advice, instruction, and criticism you give me – and your humor. your every adventure. every last simmering detail of your stories. all your perspectives, your positivity, and your compassion. your open-mindedness and understanding. your admiration. your excitement. your knowledge. your art. the dispositions of each. my own use of these so that i can expand on them. i love you and i hope that you can saturate in that. and perhaps, for some of you, i hope that these feelings are mutual so that we may immerse one another in our love.
i absorb.
i take in.
i clean
and i win,
at nothing
but living
life
as an earthling,
the type
who is humble
yet holds
her own.
i pick up
and put back
what i take
and i earn.
© LL
“Soak up all of your emotions- like a sponge. And never let them loose, for they’ll be your downfall.” My mother underlined this point to me when I was only 8. And forever more, I’m a sponge.
It is easy to soak up the worlds of others. It is another thing to soak up the world you live in on your own. And it is another thing to be one who is absorbed by others through tender influences of kindness and compassion.
books, art, movies, music….my brain is like a sponge for anything that attracts my creativity.
He stole up my emotions like a sponge, sealing it away and devoring it, leaving me dry and broken. Void of a heart, a soul, I fade away into darkness.
Along a long and desolate dirt road there lay a solitary item, fat and squishy in its texture, and porous in its notability. Into this little sponge would dirt flow, and out of would come steam and water.
Sponge. Sponge is the texture of the potato fries served in high school. Sponge is the thing that everyone knows lives under the sea, and likes to pretend that it lives specifically in a pineapple. Sponge is, to me, the best way to describe a child’s expanding mind during those first ten years.
Who lives in a pineapple under the sea… hahaha. On a less funny note, there’s a sink full of dishes I must do. Thanks goodness for abandoning homework….
soak up my tears.
take away my pain.
let every nerve
go numb.
tell me a beautiful lie
make me believe once again.
let me absorb your smile
before time runs out.
sometimes i wish that my son didn’t absorb everything like a sponge. children can see and hear everything, including everything that you don’t want them to see and hear. it would be nice if their spongieness was relative or selective and only happened when things were appropriate. a mom can dream can’t she?
A sponge can clean away a mess but it can’t clean your soul.
You will always feel dirty, soiled, impure.
A sponge can only clean so well.
Brains are like sponges in a way. Able to absorb infinite knowledge like a sponge and do other cool stuff. Brain don’t give a s–. Rightio i could go for some chips right about now. Absorbing all that food until someone comes and gives you a squeeze and everything just plops out on the floor. mmmm sounds good
It soaks up all that is around it. It’s in a deep sea of both positive and negative things. It simply soaks up it all, so who’s to say what kind of person I am?
Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Spongebob Squarepants! Absorbent and yellow and porous is he! Spongebob Squarepants! If nautical nonsense is something you wish, Spongebob Squarepants! Then blub on the deck and flop like a fish! Spongebob Squarepants! Ready? Spongebob Squarepants, Spongebob Squarepants, Spongebobbbbb Squarepantssss! Arrrharharhar hua har har har