The playground at Baby Work has straw covering the ground rather than grass or the nasty old bark chips that were there while I was a teacher. The last time I was there, the little hands of my old class gathered around me and filled my pockets with fists full of yellow, crinkled straw.
i graps at straws. ready to fly away, ready to biuld a nest, ready to do something. but what? straw is flamable, and it can sufficate. what can I do? why should I do anything? what am I. why am I? i want to know, and yet, i am afraid of the answer.
why bother with it all? what is the reason for life? To get up, to eat, breathe, have sex, pee?
why bother?
In drink out of straw. Smoothies, milkshakes, and coke. Theynhelb a bunch so the ice doesn’t get all up into my mouth. But it is also the last straw. This is the last “straw”
The flow finds you binding and strong. With tunnel vision the flow bursts forth with the pressure behind, knowing not where it will end or if it even began.
It was the last straw when I saw you with her. I heard you had been cheating on me with all of my other friends. But my best friend? You can’t make me loose her too. We knew each other since first grade. So now not only did I loose my boyfriend, but I lost my best friend. You were on the alcove next to our favorite hideout, it had just rained so it had that great, wet feeling to it. I always used to love it when it rained, but know all I think about is you. At least the rain hides my tears…
I remember the day she fell off of the straw hay bales and how scared I was when she landed flat. Her hair was pulled back tightly and I could see her slack face; she was unmoving and I was scared she wasn’t going to get up again. I had told her not to try to do it, and she did anyway, but there was no sense of I told you so; just the worry that I wouldn’t ever be able to say “I told you so” in the future.
Running. Running so fast I could feel the leaves graze against my legs. A few against my arms. My head dodging them to keep them from hitting me in my face. Sliding my feet on the ground to stay standing and taking the sharp turns. It was so dark I could barely see. Turning my head to look back. Were they still there? I don’t hear them anymore. My heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it was cutting though my chest. I had to stop to catch my breath. There’s a spot I can hide. I dipped in between the corn and was swallowed by the darkness. I was safe, so I thought. I felt a hard blow to the head and once I regained consciousness all I could see was the ground. Black, muddy straw. What’s going to happen to me now. Please, just make it quick.
She fiddled with her straw, trying not to think about the way he looked intently at her hands. He wouldn’t make eye contact. MIght he feel something else behind the infinite love he had sowrn to her prior to now?
Her hair was light as straw, in color and texture and it lilted in the wind, just slightly above the pale of her back. He could still hear her windchime laugh even though everything was silent now, and he wondered if that was him or insanity or whatever else that may have drifted onto shore by way of the sea.
My sister loves straws. She always has to use one, I wonder if her baby will be the same way. Little Sean is perfect in every way. I wish I could see him more. It sucks when your family is so spread out.
straw is a plant eaten by horses. when i was little we used to stuff straw into our scarecrows. i like the way it smells and feels. it reminds me of being little.
Her hair was straw blonde, stawlike not only in its color but in its texture as well. But how did she know this?
“Put my hair up for me, will you?”
And of course she could do nothing but oblige.
For how else is one to react to such a girl with straw blonde hair?
her eyes filled with fear. She grasped at the muddy ground, her bed of straw, reaching for anything to hang on to, but there was nothing. There vice-like hands were fastened round her ankles. There was no escape, no where to run. She dug her fingers into her hands, full of the muddy concoction.
there once was a straw and it lived a long life until oneday when a girl came along who was tired and very thirst and decided to have a nice long glass of water so she pulled out that straw and when she was done threw it away and it died
the straw hat sat on the wicker dresser — looking almost omniscient as it towered over the rest of the room, looking over the furniture, even tilted ever so slightly into the rays of sun that filtered in through the dusty curtains. it had been years since it had so much had been looked at, and its frayed brim screamed for attention, for another saturday afternoon or sunday morning spent in the garden, which had now shriveled to nothing.
His straw hat sat nicely atop his dark hair. He laid back on the green grasses watching the butterflies fly about the flowers within the field. He wondered how his life had become so simple, so calm and tame compared to what he once was. He shook his head softly to ignore the past thoughts that lingered in his head.
She twisted the straw between her fingers as she stared out into the open fields. She didn’t seem to be thinking of anything in particular, just thinking. It was peaceful. She looked at the giant clouds above, and blue sky breaking through occasionally, and the long stretches of even rows that seemed never ending. Only the slow moving clouds reminded her that time was passing.
there was a straw in my glass on lemonade. it was pink and blue striped. it had a bendy part that I enjoy unstretching and bending. the first sip from a straw is always the best. the new plastic with the fresh juice is oh so good. and by the end of the refreshing drink, the slurp is long awaited. making that noise that annoys so many other people is music to my ears. because it is my drink coming from my straw. haha
I have a straw tp sip my cola with. I use straw for cover for my dogs in the winter and to shelter them from the cold. we can drae straws to see who will be the one to do it!
i usually use a straw in my can sodas casue i dont like to touch the can with my lips. I also give the straws to my cats to play with. they usally play for a while then leave the mess behind for me to clean them up. I also get straws sometimes when i get bottles of juice.
long tube that allows sucktion of liquids
childhood bendy straws with strawberry milk
buying my first anything, a koolaid man with a bendy straw built in.
blowing soap bubbles at home with my brother
Straws are so awesome! They help me drink out of my cup. But I hate it when I’m not looking and the straw pokes my eye. Or when I forget to grab a straw and end up drinking of the side of the cup!
This was a strange day for miss straw. She likes her pineapples purplensee but today she only had orange. She wasn’t happy. She would rather die but she needed some pineapple or she would die of hay fever. She stapled a straw through the orange pineapple and slerped it all up. She didn’t mind it’s ornateness as much as she thought. How peculiar… Miss straw was the queen of the world and today was a very big day for her. She picked up her mighty magic straw and danced along her queenly way.
That’s the last straw. Hide yo kids, hide yo wife. And hide yo husband. I’m coming. He’s there. She left. Find it. Find me. Find you. I’ll laugh at the dialogue.
That’s the last straw. I don’t want to put up with this anymore. I’m done with you. For good. No turning back. I’ve made my decision and you’re going to have to be okay with that. Now just leave me alone. Please.
My mind is a haystack, and I can’t find the needle. All I seem to be able to do is wade through the straw. I haven’t been able to write since high school. Writing is the only thing that I’ve ever really been told that I’m good at, the only thing that made me stand out from all the rest. I’m scared shitless that that talent has gone. Help.
paper thin, hair, barn , horses the ring but why a well, water trees pigs, chickens horses, carrot, rasberries in the autumn wind conrad whippet in idaho feeding horses ar the barn on the road in the hills of potato land house, fether mattress a cat and dog have their first interatction as the kids in the family watch in pleasure and delightto thecuriosity and fun behavior that the two animals are havinglike two friendsfrom opposite worlds meeting for the very first time and not knwing how to treataaeach other but toni doesn’t know what Im doing because she incurious what im doing, my hands are tired, this is like the perfectthing for an add’er type person like me, my times isn’t up? what the fuck. okey dokey donkey, whyoming, i would walk 5000 miles and eat some taco time too! instead of mickey dess but what am I to do, I learned the birds and beeswith my father that year, and I killed the bluegrassbird with a rock on it’s and it was dead and than I plucked it painfully and found therocks that it ate in its gall bladder gate.
she slurped from the straw, her lips were so beautiful the way they curved. he couldnt helped staring. more than anything he wanted to kiss those gentle lips that were now coated in a thin layer of milk. a white mustache was developing on her upper lip and he couldnt help but laugh. Is something funny? she asked
i like bendy straws, sometimes the people at the fast food places put them in my drink wrong though and the bendy part is at the bottom- how do you screw that up? but then when i take it out, its fun to suck the soda that got stuck in the bottom out, but then i feel kinda weird when i have to put the straw right side up. i also like crazy straws but i havent had one since i was a kid, i should buy one, except im broke and even if i had money shouldnt really spend it on a crazy straw.
A straw, so skinny. So unique, all the little defects that it has. But, suprisingly, I can’t get to be that skinny. I think in kl, i think in calories. I cannot think in all the stuff that makes you unique, it’s impossible for me. I can’t even be a fucking straw.
sometimes i bite straws and they get all gross and stringy and i cant help it i just do it and do it and oh well i need a straw to drink i can’t drink without one unless its water i cant drink water with a straw ever. ever.
she picked up a straw. It was pink. She dropped it into her milkshake. She took her time for she knew she was to drink it all. Even though she tried so hard to make herself not for she was full. She twiddled with the straw contemplating whether or not to give into temptation.
The farmer leaned up against the barn, a lone piece of straw hanging out of his mouth. He looked happily out at all that was his. His farm was beautiful and in bloom, and the animals were happy and producing babies, eggs, milk, everything he needed.
The playground at Baby Work has straw covering the ground rather than grass or the nasty old bark chips that were there while I was a teacher. The last time I was there, the little hands of my old class gathered around me and filled my pockets with fists full of yellow, crinkled straw.
i graps at straws. ready to fly away, ready to biuld a nest, ready to do something. but what? straw is flamable, and it can sufficate. what can I do? why should I do anything? what am I. why am I? i want to know, and yet, i am afraid of the answer.
why bother with it all? what is the reason for life? To get up, to eat, breathe, have sex, pee?
why bother?
In drink out of straw. Smoothies, milkshakes, and coke. Theynhelb a bunch so the ice doesn’t get all up into my mouth. But it is also the last straw. This is the last “straw”
The flow finds you binding and strong. With tunnel vision the flow bursts forth with the pressure behind, knowing not where it will end or if it even began.
It was the last straw when I saw you with her. I heard you had been cheating on me with all of my other friends. But my best friend? You can’t make me loose her too. We knew each other since first grade. So now not only did I loose my boyfriend, but I lost my best friend. You were on the alcove next to our favorite hideout, it had just rained so it had that great, wet feeling to it. I always used to love it when it rained, but know all I think about is you. At least the rain hides my tears…
I remember the day she fell off of the straw hay bales and how scared I was when she landed flat. Her hair was pulled back tightly and I could see her slack face; she was unmoving and I was scared she wasn’t going to get up again. I had told her not to try to do it, and she did anyway, but there was no sense of I told you so; just the worry that I wouldn’t ever be able to say “I told you so” in the future.
Running. Running so fast I could feel the leaves graze against my legs. A few against my arms. My head dodging them to keep them from hitting me in my face. Sliding my feet on the ground to stay standing and taking the sharp turns. It was so dark I could barely see. Turning my head to look back. Were they still there? I don’t hear them anymore. My heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it was cutting though my chest. I had to stop to catch my breath. There’s a spot I can hide. I dipped in between the corn and was swallowed by the darkness. I was safe, so I thought. I felt a hard blow to the head and once I regained consciousness all I could see was the ground. Black, muddy straw. What’s going to happen to me now. Please, just make it quick.
She fiddled with her straw, trying not to think about the way he looked intently at her hands. He wouldn’t make eye contact. MIght he feel something else behind the infinite love he had sowrn to her prior to now?
Her hair was light as straw, in color and texture and it lilted in the wind, just slightly above the pale of her back. He could still hear her windchime laugh even though everything was silent now, and he wondered if that was him or insanity or whatever else that may have drifted onto shore by way of the sea.
My sister loves straws. She always has to use one, I wonder if her baby will be the same way. Little Sean is perfect in every way. I wish I could see him more. It sucks when your family is so spread out.
Honeycomb patterns across her skin. She shifted her head back, allowing the sun to kiss her chest. Her straw hat tumbling to the sand below.
straw is a plant eaten by horses. when i was little we used to stuff straw into our scarecrows. i like the way it smells and feels. it reminds me of being little.
Her hair was straw blonde, stawlike not only in its color but in its texture as well. But how did she know this?
“Put my hair up for me, will you?”
And of course she could do nothing but oblige.
For how else is one to react to such a girl with straw blonde hair?
blowing into the straw and watching the bubbles and fizz rise up was a joyful engagement for the little kid/
her eyes filled with fear. She grasped at the muddy ground, her bed of straw, reaching for anything to hang on to, but there was nothing. There vice-like hands were fastened round her ankles. There was no escape, no where to run. She dug her fingers into her hands, full of the muddy concoction.
there once was a straw and it lived a long life until oneday when a girl came along who was tired and very thirst and decided to have a nice long glass of water so she pulled out that straw and when she was done threw it away and it died
the straw hat sat on the wicker dresser — looking almost omniscient as it towered over the rest of the room, looking over the furniture, even tilted ever so slightly into the rays of sun that filtered in through the dusty curtains. it had been years since it had so much had been looked at, and its frayed brim screamed for attention, for another saturday afternoon or sunday morning spent in the garden, which had now shriveled to nothing.
His straw hat sat nicely atop his dark hair. He laid back on the green grasses watching the butterflies fly about the flowers within the field. He wondered how his life had become so simple, so calm and tame compared to what he once was. He shook his head softly to ignore the past thoughts that lingered in his head.
Stirring around my chocolate shake, my straw searched for one last sip of that scrumptious vacation
She twisted the straw between her fingers as she stared out into the open fields. She didn’t seem to be thinking of anything in particular, just thinking. It was peaceful. She looked at the giant clouds above, and blue sky breaking through occasionally, and the long stretches of even rows that seemed never ending. Only the slow moving clouds reminded her that time was passing.
there was a straw in my glass on lemonade. it was pink and blue striped. it had a bendy part that I enjoy unstretching and bending. the first sip from a straw is always the best. the new plastic with the fresh juice is oh so good. and by the end of the refreshing drink, the slurp is long awaited. making that noise that annoys so many other people is music to my ears. because it is my drink coming from my straw. haha
I have a straw tp sip my cola with. I use straw for cover for my dogs in the winter and to shelter them from the cold. we can drae straws to see who will be the one to do it!
i usually use a straw in my can sodas casue i dont like to touch the can with my lips. I also give the straws to my cats to play with. they usally play for a while then leave the mess behind for me to clean them up. I also get straws sometimes when i get bottles of juice.
long tube that allows sucktion of liquids
childhood bendy straws with strawberry milk
buying my first anything, a koolaid man with a bendy straw built in.
blowing soap bubbles at home with my brother
Straws are so awesome! They help me drink out of my cup. But I hate it when I’m not looking and the straw pokes my eye. Or when I forget to grab a straw and end up drinking of the side of the cup!
The liquid go forms to the plastic, and touches my tongue. t’s my favorite drink, Dr.Pepper, greeting my taste buds.
This was a strange day for miss straw. She likes her pineapples purplensee but today she only had orange. She wasn’t happy. She would rather die but she needed some pineapple or she would die of hay fever. She stapled a straw through the orange pineapple and slerped it all up. She didn’t mind it’s ornateness as much as she thought. How peculiar… Miss straw was the queen of the world and today was a very big day for her. She picked up her mighty magic straw and danced along her queenly way.
That’s the last straw. Hide yo kids, hide yo wife. And hide yo husband. I’m coming. He’s there. She left. Find it. Find me. Find you. I’ll laugh at the dialogue.
That’s the last straw. I don’t want to put up with this anymore. I’m done with you. For good. No turning back. I’ve made my decision and you’re going to have to be okay with that. Now just leave me alone. Please.
Drinking
Pepsi, Coke and
Mountain Dew
through
striped red and
white
plastic bendy
straws.
My mind is a haystack, and I can’t find the needle. All I seem to be able to do is wade through the straw. I haven’t been able to write since high school. Writing is the only thing that I’ve ever really been told that I’m good at, the only thing that made me stand out from all the rest. I’m scared shitless that that talent has gone. Help.
Straw man argument. Grasping at straws. Incidentally, that’s what I’m doing here — now that I’ve found that I have nothing to write.
I curled up in the straw, trying to ignore the sharp, prickly stems and fall asleep.
paper thin, hair, barn , horses the ring but why a well, water trees pigs, chickens horses, carrot, rasberries in the autumn wind conrad whippet in idaho feeding horses ar the barn on the road in the hills of potato land house, fether mattress a cat and dog have their first interatction as the kids in the family watch in pleasure and delightto thecuriosity and fun behavior that the two animals are havinglike two friendsfrom opposite worlds meeting for the very first time and not knwing how to treataaeach other but toni doesn’t know what Im doing because she incurious what im doing, my hands are tired, this is like the perfectthing for an add’er type person like me, my times isn’t up? what the fuck. okey dokey donkey, whyoming, i would walk 5000 miles and eat some taco time too! instead of mickey dess but what am I to do, I learned the birds and beeswith my father that year, and I killed the bluegrassbird with a rock on it’s and it was dead and than I plucked it painfully and found therocks that it ate in its gall bladder gate.
she slurped from the straw, her lips were so beautiful the way they curved. he couldnt helped staring. more than anything he wanted to kiss those gentle lips that were now coated in a thin layer of milk. a white mustache was developing on her upper lip and he couldnt help but laugh. Is something funny? she asked
i like bendy straws, sometimes the people at the fast food places put them in my drink wrong though and the bendy part is at the bottom- how do you screw that up? but then when i take it out, its fun to suck the soda that got stuck in the bottom out, but then i feel kinda weird when i have to put the straw right side up. i also like crazy straws but i havent had one since i was a kid, i should buy one, except im broke and even if i had money shouldnt really spend it on a crazy straw.
A straw, so skinny. So unique, all the little defects that it has. But, suprisingly, I can’t get to be that skinny. I think in kl, i think in calories. I cannot think in all the stuff that makes you unique, it’s impossible for me. I can’t even be a fucking straw.
sometimes i bite straws and they get all gross and stringy and i cant help it i just do it and do it and oh well i need a straw to drink i can’t drink without one unless its water i cant drink water with a straw ever. ever.
she picked up a straw. It was pink. She dropped it into her milkshake. She took her time for she knew she was to drink it all. Even though she tried so hard to make herself not for she was full. She twiddled with the straw contemplating whether or not to give into temptation.
The farmer leaned up against the barn, a lone piece of straw hanging out of his mouth. He looked happily out at all that was his. His farm was beautiful and in bloom, and the animals were happy and producing babies, eggs, milk, everything he needed.