The dashboard loomed over me. I was too short to see over it unless I folded my legs underneath me. Mommy said that I wasn’t allowed to though. She said that if we got in a wreck I could die. I didn’t want to die. I wasn’t even supposed to be in the front seat. The only reason I was in the front was because Mommy had a lot of clothes in the back. Apparently I could be defenestrated out the window… whatever that meant.
Lexie
There was a small, bobble-headed doll on the dashboard, supposedly a likeness of Ronald Reagan, but it reminded me of that preacher at my aunt’s wedding. I could almost see the spittle flying off his lips as he ranted on about the evils of man.
tonykeyesjapan
and i can see paradise by the dashboard light”
god damn
this is not my paradise. I want to be on a mountain top with no cell service, rolling out of a sleeping bag to greet another day on the trail. I do not want to be in a car in the middle of nowhere Kentucky at 3 in the morning with a bunch of misfit kids who’s parents didn’t want them home for the week long march break.
Driving nowhere looking around trees, lights, cars, a moose. Slam on the breaks. Nowehere to turn. Crash. Gasping for air. Can’t see. Can’t breath. Sirens. Screams. Help.
A Renouf
cars…dashboards seem to always be there but we never notice them. I mean actually become aware of them. How much work was put into that dashboard? Who designed it? Why did they design it that way?
Kurt
My head smacked against the grey dashboard. The accident had caused a build up and the force of the hit also caused a build up but of pressure in my head yet the dashboard seemed dent free and blemish free excepting the dark stain of blood, my blood.
Cyn21Rider
My Tumblr dashboard! I love it. It’s such a good way to spend my time. I like reading things that people find interesting/funny, and especially things that people write. And best of all, I like reblogging things that I truly like and want on my blog. It makes me feel unique and individual. Go Tumblr!
I just wrote this one, but I didn’t submit my email or name. I don’t really feel like writing about it again so I’m gonna kill this minute. I like potato chips, they are a nice salty snack. I should stop eating so many of them because I will get fat if I don’t. I don’t want to get fat.
Sean
oh the dashboard melted but we still have the radio. that is a modet mouse song that my older brother introduced to me. he and i have a strained relationship because of how distant he has always been because of his depression. recently we have somewhat connected because I told him that I smoked weed and now we sometimes smoke together. I wish he liked me for other things though.
Quinn
confessional. nothing so suits me than to pour out those silky threads that just keep coming; whispie lovelies you’ll never forget. I don’t think you’d understand. that makes me.
My computer has a dashboard, I think. I don’t really know what it is, but I hear about it, so I act like I know what it is. I should figure it out sometime.
kjkj
the dashboard sits, and
waits.
to be cracked,
or somehow broken
into swallow-size pieces
or scintillating smithereens
the dashboard waits all by its lonely.
its eyes have already broken
the sun is far too blinding
and harsh
when exposed to such a degree
of impenetrable plastic.
the dashboard sits, and
waits,
waits,
(wants)
to be broken.
Alison
Your trenchant words dig a trench in my heart … Oh wait, “Trenches” was yesterday’s word. Today’s word is what? “Dashboard”? OK, uh … Oops, out of time.
waka
dashboard i dont even think i really know what that means, i think it is something to do with computers but that is probably me being really modern and youthful etc and also not able to drive, because now i rememember that it definitely has somethign to do with cars, am i right? its kind of 2 words anyway so this is cheating, because dash is fast and board is, well, a board.
theo
Feet kicked up on the dashboard, he stared at her while she aimlessly sang Rascall Flatts, loud and completely out of tune. He smiled and thought to himself what a day this was, what a girl she was, what a life this was.
katie
the car was speeding down the street and all i could think was how dirty the dashboard looked. When was the last time I cleaned this? I guess it has been awhile. I will stop by the car wash on the way home and do some much needed cleaning.
Stephanie
My glasses flew into the dashboard as the truck slammed into us from behind. I didn’t see them; my eyes’d been shut. I felt them free themselves from my face. The world slowed down as our car spun sideways into the guardrail. I would soon learn reasons not to run barefoot on the highway.
I took my chance. I dashed out of the door and went for it. I imagined a dashboard in my body, exploding as I reached the maximum. I thought of life as a dashboard too. At times, the arrow would point to the top, but not now. No matter how fast I was going, the arrow didn’t budge. I couldn’t run forever.
It’s the beginning of it all. It is a wide gate, furnished with the finest silver from the galaxy, the most precious jewels are embedded into the sides, smoothed to the point even a child could not figure out how to be cut by them. They will swing wide, slowly opening the realm to a place never seen before. From there, you must figure out life for yourself.
A place to begin. A place in the middle. And the place where it ends. Driving, searching, losing, finding, and stopping in order to find the place you want to be. Dashboard.
Sonya
dashboard
the board dashed
bored bored bored
with your running
away
away
away
I am learning how to drive right now, and my instructor tells me I’m very good at it (I don’t believe her). My biggest fear is being unable to see over the dashboard- I’m fifteen years old and only 4’11”, and it’s pretty clear I’m not about to get any taller for the rest of my life.
Kimberly
I click on my Tumblr dashboard. Nothing but depressing posts. “Why do I follow these people?” I think to myself. The last thing I need is being even more depressed. I try reloading, and something new finally pops up.
Maya
laughing at all the posts that are about tumblr
#metoobro #iknowthemfeels
The dashboard of the car was hot to the touch. Cecilia grimaced and drew her fingers back. The car had been sitting out in the sun way too long and felt like a sweltering off. She punched the buttons on the door to lower the windows, but it didn’t help much. Now she had the pollen and the heat.
Linda Adams
dashboard, is this tumblr? Cause I wish this was, maybe I should go back there. Would be nice, but I am tired of the anon hate..
her feet are on the dashboard
her lacquered toes
red nails
pale skin
how beautiful
i’d never think that i could find a body part so enthralling
but i do
these dashboard feet must have grown
from the days when her
parents loving placed them in booties
to the days where she shoved them
in high heels
out for a night on the town
i never really understood that expression.
she wiggles her toes
the sun coming through the window
the wind blowing her sandy
hair over her sunglasses
that she told me she wears
’cause she thinks they make her look fierce
she catches me staring,
and smiles giving me a little shove
“eyes on the road mister!”
Hard cold plastic ripping at my face. It hurts everything hurts. I hit my head hard and I drip out of conciseness.
Rachel V
Driving in the sunny weather and the light from the sun bounces off the dashboard almost blinding. But in a way that means freedom and open windows and blaring radios and spending time with the people you love most and creating the most beautiful art of the year.
Tuesday Louise
Tumblr was getting a bit dull as of late. My dashboard had gotten horribly slow and the blue background of the site I saw every day was starting to bore me. Even the people on Tumblr were becoming less pleasant.
Flung underneath the dashing waves of the River; unable to see; unable to find
the exit.
Only able; so gaze upon the bobbling head that lie upon
their dashboard…
Marine scrolls through her Tumblr dashboard, mesmerized by the endless Destiel manips. She is too far gone, she knows it. But there is no turning back once you’ve been sucked in. Then, a strange feeling encompasses her. She feels her body gravitating toward the screen, then into the screen, then through the screen. Jensen Ackles stands before her. She is Misha.
oops sorry
Scratching my nails against the glove compartment, I pulled out the battered Brian Wilson bobblehead and haphazardly perched it atop the dashboard, watching the great black plastic beard sway back and forth against the pivot of the figurine’s neck. The lights were melting like candied caramel against the windshield, and I tried concentrating on little Wilson to keep myself awake.
Belinda Roddie
I hit my head up against the dashboard repeatedly when I read the news. Yeah, I shouldn’t have been reading texts while driving, but that’s not the point here. The point is that SHE got that big writing award. The SHE who drives me bat-shit crazy. And what do I have to show for my time? Absolutely nothing. This has been a horrible day.
AndriaR
it’s like a board and use it for writing
lilia
John watson was pacing the upstairs corridor of his and sherlocks tiny apartment. hes missing his laptop, he had it set down on the table for no more that 15 minutes and now its gone. hes searched everywhere and finally came across the culprit.
casey
She just stared at the dashboard. Every car trip meant the looming awkwardness of the endless silence with her dad tapping next to her driving. She spent the entire trip compensating whether or not he just wasn’t good at conversation, or if he just liked the siblings better. She denied that thought, but the ring of its aftermath bruised her emotions. These trips just felt like a hole at the beach that was dying to be filled with water, but only had air. Simple, shallow, air.
Schwab
The dashboard flickered onto the screen, displaying an array of useless nonsense that some 12 year old downloaded onto it. With a sigh, Carrie glanced at the tiny digital clock in the corner, reading that it was already 3 in the morning and she had only just gotten the damn thing to turn on.
The dashboard loomed over me. I was too short to see over it unless I folded my legs underneath me. Mommy said that I wasn’t allowed to though. She said that if we got in a wreck I could die. I didn’t want to die. I wasn’t even supposed to be in the front seat. The only reason I was in the front was because Mommy had a lot of clothes in the back. Apparently I could be defenestrated out the window… whatever that meant.
There was a small, bobble-headed doll on the dashboard, supposedly a likeness of Ronald Reagan, but it reminded me of that preacher at my aunt’s wedding. I could almost see the spittle flying off his lips as he ranted on about the evils of man.
and i can see paradise by the dashboard light”
god damn
this is not my paradise. I want to be on a mountain top with no cell service, rolling out of a sleeping bag to greet another day on the trail. I do not want to be in a car in the middle of nowhere Kentucky at 3 in the morning with a bunch of misfit kids who’s parents didn’t want them home for the week long march break.
Driving nowhere looking around trees, lights, cars, a moose. Slam on the breaks. Nowehere to turn. Crash. Gasping for air. Can’t see. Can’t breath. Sirens. Screams. Help.
cars…dashboards seem to always be there but we never notice them. I mean actually become aware of them. How much work was put into that dashboard? Who designed it? Why did they design it that way?
My head smacked against the grey dashboard. The accident had caused a build up and the force of the hit also caused a build up but of pressure in my head yet the dashboard seemed dent free and blemish free excepting the dark stain of blood, my blood.
My Tumblr dashboard! I love it. It’s such a good way to spend my time. I like reading things that people find interesting/funny, and especially things that people write. And best of all, I like reblogging things that I truly like and want on my blog. It makes me feel unique and individual. Go Tumblr!
I just wrote this one, but I didn’t submit my email or name. I don’t really feel like writing about it again so I’m gonna kill this minute. I like potato chips, they are a nice salty snack. I should stop eating so many of them because I will get fat if I don’t. I don’t want to get fat.
oh the dashboard melted but we still have the radio. that is a modet mouse song that my older brother introduced to me. he and i have a strained relationship because of how distant he has always been because of his depression. recently we have somewhat connected because I told him that I smoked weed and now we sometimes smoke together. I wish he liked me for other things though.
confessional. nothing so suits me than to pour out those silky threads that just keep coming; whispie lovelies you’ll never forget. I don’t think you’d understand. that makes me.
My computer has a dashboard, I think. I don’t really know what it is, but I hear about it, so I act like I know what it is. I should figure it out sometime.
the dashboard sits, and
waits.
to be cracked,
or somehow broken
into swallow-size pieces
or scintillating smithereens
the dashboard waits all by its lonely.
its eyes have already broken
the sun is far too blinding
and harsh
when exposed to such a degree
of impenetrable plastic.
the dashboard sits, and
waits,
waits,
(wants)
to be broken.
Your trenchant words dig a trench in my heart … Oh wait, “Trenches” was yesterday’s word. Today’s word is what? “Dashboard”? OK, uh … Oops, out of time.
dashboard i dont even think i really know what that means, i think it is something to do with computers but that is probably me being really modern and youthful etc and also not able to drive, because now i rememember that it definitely has somethign to do with cars, am i right? its kind of 2 words anyway so this is cheating, because dash is fast and board is, well, a board.
Feet kicked up on the dashboard, he stared at her while she aimlessly sang Rascall Flatts, loud and completely out of tune. He smiled and thought to himself what a day this was, what a girl she was, what a life this was.
the car was speeding down the street and all i could think was how dirty the dashboard looked. When was the last time I cleaned this? I guess it has been awhile. I will stop by the car wash on the way home and do some much needed cleaning.
My glasses flew into the dashboard as the truck slammed into us from behind. I didn’t see them; my eyes’d been shut. I felt them free themselves from my face. The world slowed down as our car spun sideways into the guardrail. I would soon learn reasons not to run barefoot on the highway.
I took my chance. I dashed out of the door and went for it. I imagined a dashboard in my body, exploding as I reached the maximum. I thought of life as a dashboard too. At times, the arrow would point to the top, but not now. No matter how fast I was going, the arrow didn’t budge. I couldn’t run forever.
Well the dashboard melted but we still have the radio..
He looked over at her, smiled, and set his hand atop the gearshift.
“Truce?” he asked, looking down at her blue hair.
“Not on your life.” she growled, and looked out the window, “I’m still exceptionally angry with you.”
He looked out the window. Pity. He thought, they could have been good friends.
It’s the beginning of it all. It is a wide gate, furnished with the finest silver from the galaxy, the most precious jewels are embedded into the sides, smoothed to the point even a child could not figure out how to be cut by them. They will swing wide, slowly opening the realm to a place never seen before. From there, you must figure out life for yourself.
A place to begin. A place in the middle. And the place where it ends. Driving, searching, losing, finding, and stopping in order to find the place you want to be. Dashboard.
dashboard
the board dashed
bored bored bored
with your running
away
away
away
I am learning how to drive right now, and my instructor tells me I’m very good at it (I don’t believe her). My biggest fear is being unable to see over the dashboard- I’m fifteen years old and only 4’11”, and it’s pretty clear I’m not about to get any taller for the rest of my life.
I click on my Tumblr dashboard. Nothing but depressing posts. “Why do I follow these people?” I think to myself. The last thing I need is being even more depressed. I try reloading, and something new finally pops up.
laughing at all the posts that are about tumblr
#metoobro #iknowthemfeels
The dashboard of the car was hot to the touch. Cecilia grimaced and drew her fingers back. The car had been sitting out in the sun way too long and felt like a sweltering off. She punched the buttons on the door to lower the windows, but it didn’t help much. Now she had the pollen and the heat.
dashboard, is this tumblr? Cause I wish this was, maybe I should go back there. Would be nice, but I am tired of the anon hate..
her feet are on the dashboard
her lacquered toes
red nails
pale skin
how beautiful
i’d never think that i could find a body part so enthralling
but i do
these dashboard feet must have grown
from the days when her
parents loving placed them in booties
to the days where she shoved them
in high heels
out for a night on the town
i never really understood that expression.
she wiggles her toes
the sun coming through the window
the wind blowing her sandy
hair over her sunglasses
that she told me she wears
’cause she thinks they make her look fierce
she catches me staring,
and smiles giving me a little shove
“eyes on the road mister!”
Hard cold plastic ripping at my face. It hurts everything hurts. I hit my head hard and I drip out of conciseness.
Driving in the sunny weather and the light from the sun bounces off the dashboard almost blinding. But in a way that means freedom and open windows and blaring radios and spending time with the people you love most and creating the most beautiful art of the year.
Tumblr was getting a bit dull as of late. My dashboard had gotten horribly slow and the blue background of the site I saw every day was starting to bore me. Even the people on Tumblr were becoming less pleasant.
Flung underneath the dashing waves of the River; unable to see; unable to find
the exit.
Only able; so gaze upon the bobbling head that lie upon
their dashboard…
car Honda girls woman dance
Marine scrolls through her Tumblr dashboard, mesmerized by the endless Destiel manips. She is too far gone, she knows it. But there is no turning back once you’ve been sucked in. Then, a strange feeling encompasses her. She feels her body gravitating toward the screen, then into the screen, then through the screen. Jensen Ackles stands before her. She is Misha.
Scratching my nails against the glove compartment, I pulled out the battered Brian Wilson bobblehead and haphazardly perched it atop the dashboard, watching the great black plastic beard sway back and forth against the pivot of the figurine’s neck. The lights were melting like candied caramel against the windshield, and I tried concentrating on little Wilson to keep myself awake.
I hit my head up against the dashboard repeatedly when I read the news. Yeah, I shouldn’t have been reading texts while driving, but that’s not the point here. The point is that SHE got that big writing award. The SHE who drives me bat-shit crazy. And what do I have to show for my time? Absolutely nothing. This has been a horrible day.
it’s like a board and use it for writing
John watson was pacing the upstairs corridor of his and sherlocks tiny apartment. hes missing his laptop, he had it set down on the table for no more that 15 minutes and now its gone. hes searched everywhere and finally came across the culprit.
She just stared at the dashboard. Every car trip meant the looming awkwardness of the endless silence with her dad tapping next to her driving. She spent the entire trip compensating whether or not he just wasn’t good at conversation, or if he just liked the siblings better. She denied that thought, but the ring of its aftermath bruised her emotions. These trips just felt like a hole at the beach that was dying to be filled with water, but only had air. Simple, shallow, air.
The dashboard flickered onto the screen, displaying an array of useless nonsense that some 12 year old downloaded onto it. With a sigh, Carrie glanced at the tiny digital clock in the corner, reading that it was already 3 in the morning and she had only just gotten the damn thing to turn on.