Comments on: stacks http://oneword.com/word/stacks/ Sat, 18 May 2013 06:24:08 +0000 hourly 1 By: Surrenderpity http://oneword.com/word/stacks/comment-page-13/#comment-383259 Surrenderpity Tue, 11 Oct 2011 18:12:16 +0000 http://oneword.com/word/stacks/#comment-383259 stacks and stacks of books that smell like paper paste and dust. I walk through them looking for him. I catch the glimpse of a shoulder, a cowlick peeking over a coat lapel. Hello, I say. He reaches for me and i taste him, salty and juicy in equal measure. stacks and stacks of books that smell like paper paste and dust. I walk through them looking for him. I catch the glimpse of a shoulder, a cowlick peeking over a coat lapel. Hello, I say. He reaches for me and i taste him, salty and juicy in equal measure.

]]> By: Anna http://oneword.com/word/stacks/comment-page-13/#comment-383258 Anna Tue, 11 Oct 2011 18:11:18 +0000 http://oneword.com/word/stacks/#comment-383258 Stacks of books piled on the floor. That's what I think about. Also big tall bookshelves leaning over me, threatening to fall. Stacks of papers in an office. LOTS of work to do. They all hold information about things. Stacks of books piled on the floor. That’s what I think about. Also big tall bookshelves leaning over me, threatening to fall. Stacks of papers in an office. LOTS of work to do. They all hold information about things.

]]> By: sparrow http://oneword.com/word/stacks/comment-page-13/#comment-383257 sparrow Tue, 11 Oct 2011 18:09:33 +0000 http://oneword.com/word/stacks/#comment-383257 you can only feel human through so much. after that, it's only reflex, his hands felt sticky, raw, abused. each body he dragged into the ditch was another victory for somebody else - another number to add, another name to erase. there were hundreds of them, layers of non-life, everywhere. you can only feel human through so much.

after that, it’s only reflex,

his hands felt sticky, raw, abused. each body he dragged into the ditch was another victory for somebody else – another number to add, another name to erase.
there were hundreds of them, layers of non-life, everywhere.

]]> By: Claire http://oneword.com/word/stacks/comment-page-13/#comment-383256 Claire Tue, 11 Oct 2011 18:03:31 +0000 http://oneword.com/word/stacks/#comment-383256 The room was filled with stacks of books. Papers littered the floor. It looked like the place had been ransacked. But by whom? What were they looking for? In a library of all places? The room was filled with stacks of books. Papers littered the floor. It looked like the place had been ransacked. But by whom? What were they looking for? In a library of all places?

]]> By: Hizzyshmizzle http://oneword.com/word/stacks/comment-page-13/#comment-383255 Hizzyshmizzle Tue, 11 Oct 2011 18:01:21 +0000 http://oneword.com/word/stacks/#comment-383255 stack of hay and stacks of books. Stacks of cookies and stacks of nooks. Stacks are a very wonderful way to organize all of your things. yo put a stack of just one thing here a stack of another there. What a great thing to do; stack. stack of hay and stacks of books. Stacks of cookies and stacks of nooks. Stacks are a very wonderful way to organize all of your things. yo put a stack of just one thing here a stack of another there. What a great thing to do; stack.

]]> By: Sophie http://oneword.com/word/stacks/comment-page-13/#comment-383254 Sophie Tue, 11 Oct 2011 18:01:03 +0000 http://oneword.com/word/stacks/#comment-383254 When you have a stack of papers, and you're looking for one in particular, for some reason it's always at the bottom of the stack. Maybe it's like that with soul mates. You have to look past all the wrong ones first to get to the right one. When you have a stack of papers, and you’re looking for one in particular, for some reason it’s always at the bottom of the stack. Maybe it’s like that with soul mates. You have to look past all the wrong ones first to get to the right one.

]]> By: make me http://oneword.com/word/stacks/comment-page-13/#comment-383253 make me Tue, 11 Oct 2011 17:59:23 +0000 http://oneword.com/word/stacks/#comment-383253 the old man walked into the library to rest his eyes upon the stacks he had been anxiously waiting to rest his shaky, gnarled fingers on. susan looked up from her desk, eyebrows raised. her pink sweater was extra tight, today. the old man walked into the library to rest his eyes upon the stacks he had been anxiously waiting to rest his shaky, gnarled fingers on.

susan looked up from her desk, eyebrows raised. her pink sweater was extra tight, today.

]]> By: Frank http://oneword.com/word/stacks/comment-page-13/#comment-383252 Frank Tue, 11 Oct 2011 17:43:58 +0000 http://oneword.com/word/stacks/#comment-383252 Stacked up in the crevaces in my mind are the thoughts of the stacks of emotions i with hold but are blocked by the stacks of fear that are stacked up beneath my subconsious i cant stand. Stacked up in the crevaces in my mind are the thoughts of the stacks of emotions i with hold but are blocked by the stacks of fear that are stacked up beneath my subconsious i cant stand.

]]> By: Kat http://oneword.com/word/stacks/comment-page-13/#comment-383251 Kat Tue, 11 Oct 2011 17:39:17 +0000 http://oneword.com/word/stacks/#comment-383251 Stacks, and stacks of books surround me. They go from the unseeable floor, which simply must exist, all the way to the unenvisionable sky. Stacks and stacks of books, rows and rows of stairs. Stacks, and stacks of books surround me. They go from the unseeable floor, which simply must exist, all the way to the unenvisionable sky. Stacks and stacks of books, rows and rows of stairs.

]]> By: Laura http://oneword.com/word/stacks/comment-page-13/#comment-383250 Laura Tue, 11 Oct 2011 17:37:44 +0000 http://oneword.com/word/stacks/#comment-383250 The must scent fills my nostrils, clogging it with the sweet aroma of decay. Pages spill everywhere, words and memories burst from the life of trees, begging, aching, screaming to be read. Love me. Learn me. Figure out who I am. Stacks upon stacks of these carefully caressed novels and self-destructive biographies clutter the floor, closing in on my every thought, my very heart, and the core of my soul. It feels like home. The must scent fills my nostrils, clogging it with the sweet aroma of decay. Pages spill everywhere, words and memories burst from the life of trees, begging, aching, screaming to be read.

Love me. Learn me. Figure out who I am.

Stacks upon stacks of these carefully caressed novels and self-destructive biographies clutter the floor, closing in on my every thought, my very heart, and the core of my soul.

It feels like home.

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