its something everyone (at least i do) take for granted..that to believe.to judge..to understand we must first have evidence in order to have basis..too many assumptions..too many mistakes..and too many heartaches happened..all because of lack of evidence
joco
I have evidence that most people are indebtedly in love with themselves. Not as narcissists, but genuinely feel they have the power to make themselves a better place, like doves moving South for the Winter. What’s wrong with that?
sean
make it believe than nothing is conciously dreaming…
long enough i just said things that I didnt want to… heck it feels bad, and somehow you just dont know what to do…
i feel so busted, heck i feel so bloated myself all of the sudden,dreaming hoping on something that i will never get
i cursed myself from bed on the way it was horrible,
ass holes, jerk, faking myself, business that i do not wanted to, i feel like an asshole, go write it up. nowwwww….
charyza
When I think about how my life has gotten worse, evidence is what did it. I wish I never knew for sure, I would rather trust and be wrong. But evidence is proof, and it has ruined the way I view my species. That is sad, I want to cry.
Jon Burr
the need to feel like your opinion is valid, that there is some reason that you feel the way you do…that all you feel isn’t just a fiment of your imagination or a desperate reaction to something that very well may not need a reaction to…
jackie
as she stumbled upon the evidence of her fathers death, she was flabbergasted,because right next to him, was her husband gun in his hand and knife in the head.
Tia Pulkownik
The police investigator looked down through the chimney. Much to his amazement he saw what looked like the glimmer of a precious stone. Slowly he reached his hand into the soot covered hole and pulled out what appeared to be a wedding ring.
Stuart Blessing
All that remained of the once proud society was a building. It was simple, yet elegant, and none of the archaeologists knew what it had been for.
It had been a library.
Alison Robin
evidently they were liars about it summer after eight grade i w as fourteen they had the evidence and i had a bad family name my brother arson james got off we didn’t =reform= psychos and an anarchist and madmen and liars.
libertine
Evidence is the stuff of the law enforcement gods that reign over us with steely eyes and distant forms. They say the long arm of the law can reach anywhere, into infinity, but it is constrained by evidence.
Joel R.
evidence…that i’m loved – you…that i’m blessed – you…that i’m happy – you…that i’m headed in the right direction – you…you’re the 1 4 me…you.
chansgirl
there’s a small small substance, big as the sky. then there’s a little small inkling of my own future…shining full like sun. the evidence of us…having begun.
cjstar
evidence is information related to a certain topic.
example: evidence is used in court to prove a persons guilt or innocence, the evidence related to the case in direct and important ways.
ahh no time
chris
Where’s my book of matches? How’d this tear get in my shirt? Is that a cut beneath fabric? I can’t remember when I got that. Is my hair falling out? Which boots did I wear? Did we take the license plate off? Do you think they followed us there? Did we take the license plates off? Did we hit them hard enough? Do you think they’ll remember, do you think they’ll wake up?
Ron
It was evident that the evidence of the entire circumstance was faulty. The roses meant nothing, the leaves hid it all. What kind of evidence are petals without fragrance, or a bush with too many thorns? Evidence without meaning. That’s what it is. That’s all it will ever be. Unconvincing evidence that contradicts all.
Candice
The crime scene looked empty. there was nothing out of place. no cups were nudged, no shoes were shuffled. And then he saw it. A pair of glasses, half opened, sitting at the edge of the couch on the floor. He lifted the bottom flap of the sofa. There was the body.
Alex
The evidence was as clear as the smug look on his face. Her body lay mangled on the roadside. Burnt and beaten. The young boy in the backseat sat with a terrified look on his face, frozen in time. The older man turned and looked crazed at the young boy. A snarled, wild animal look on his face. He grinned and sneered, “Now isn’t your mother beautiful?”
Julianna
evidence of who you are. the life you lead. its all in the clothes you wear the car you drive the house you live in; so why not free yourself from those limitations. Remove the materials and gain actual substance in life. Think, exist, be.
sarah
Evidence incriminates people or supports someone’s opinion.
It is powerful in so many ways.
And if you are going to commit a crime, don’t leave evidence.
Heather
The evidence is clear: the country is in a state of panic.
We have a SNL skit for a potential VP.
We have a superman caricature saving our economy, then sabotaging it.
We are down a trillion bucks.
But, who’s the judge?
A. N. McClelland
there was never any “real” evidence, only the perhaps. Perhaps it means he did it. Perhaps it means he didn’t. Perhaps it doesn’t matter, as long as we can pin it on, classify, move on. Nevermind what’s left in the wake.
Jess
the evidence was that she never knew what would happen next
there fore
there
was
NO
evidence
no trail that she ever existed
she found it romantic unto herself
and wept and smiled at the simeltaneous beauty and futility
mermaidmudra@earthlink.net
Looking every where for evidence that you still love me. I keep coming up empty handed and you can’t even look me in the eye. I try to touch your hand and you pull away, disgusted. Where there used to b a spark between you and me now there is nothing. I hate myself because i still do love you and you can’t even stand the sight of me.
Jade
Criminals would be free birds without this wonderful little invention by scientists, or policemen, or whoever. It can, however, been manipulated and even made up. Careful about that, don’t outright believe everything that you see. Sometimes crap really is CRAP.
Melissa
it came to me like i thought it was a detective. the room was set in a dark, and hustky place, and fed through these heavy lies of deciet and treachery, all could hear the heavy moans and cries from those within, those who had been hurt by it, that it
Dhanyal Kairm
They will never find the evidence; never, never; dirty dirty; evidence evidence. Screaming, screaming, bloody bloody. Crying crying, hate hate, sadness sadness. No evidence.
Goat
sometimes you feel like you can get away with it. But then you hear the voices that suggest they know something. The Light on your face is burning. The questions are like daggers. You can’t fight the evidence.
matt
proof that we are thinking
Loana
I lost the meaning yesterday. You see, the proof wasn’t there, not in his eyes when he stared at his cereal, the back at me, coco pebbles sticking to his chin. It wasn’t there when he looked at his dresser drawer for a full minute, staring at black Calvin Klein in the early morning darkness. My alarm was still ringing.
There was no evidence as we walked, not touching, through the park, the dog leading us past forms that I suppose were people. Nothing to indicate was pulled pillows closer to his sides, sitting on the couch, surrounding himself with plump pattered silk.
It’s not that I wasn’t looking. A desperate magnification scrutinized each breath, each gaze and each motion. I was paying attention.
But the evidence was slim. Doubts crept in. And I will go to bed tonight, next to him, not knowing.
chelsea
fingerprints cover everything…the walls…the floor…all the objects…they cover every square inch of the place…except for the most important thing…the body…it’s spotless…cleaned up as if he was going out for drinks and dancing…and from what I’ve seen…that was the plan…until this happened…they came, they saw, they conquered…who they were and how they conquered is still a mystery…there was no struggle…no scratch was made…not a hair on him was out of place…it’s as if this was done through a poison of sorts…yet…not a hint of poison…not an iota…as if he just decided to lay down and sleep…fully dressed to the nines…maybe the nines wasn’t his cup of tea…maybe he was more of a sixes and sevens type…his counterpart was a thing of sheer grace and power…just sitting on the vanity…staring at her prone mate…perfume bottle being impatiently shifted from hand to hand…her make-up is strategically placed…hair coiffed to perfection…dressed in emerald silk and several diamonds of a rather large size…a look upon her face that; even though her eyes are dead, is beautiful yet haunted…as if this death had only the slightest of effects on her…but all she does is sit there…waiting for her partner to be done getting ready…for the bars are only open for so long…and dancing is only fun once it starts…she snaps out of her reverie and slips off of the vanity…sauntering over to the body and stooping down to touch its face with a delicate hand…her mouth hovers by its ear…she whispers, “Wake up, my love…dreams are not becoming, or so you’ve told me.”…with a smug look hardening her features, she waltzed out of the room…the minute she stepped foot into the hallway, her mate’s eyes snapped open and he sat up…he blinked a few times, taking in the scene before him…he stood up and brushed himself off, as if he hadn’t just been lying on the floor dead for the past few hours…with a quick nod towards the people in the room, he strolled out of the room and snaked an arm around his partner’s waist…leaning into her side, he breathed in her ear, “Death isn’t a dream, just a defiant stare at life.”…they left the place…leaving all of us with very puzzled looks marring our brows…
Chelsea Holden
i have no evidence against him. all i know is that it’s hard for me to trust him when he acts the way he does. flirting. thats the extent of it. is it my jealousy or just the fact that he could hurt me again? when i try to talk to him about it i lost my train of thought and cant get the words across the way i’d like to. im speechless. is it that im wrong? or that im right.
lauren
i don’t leave evidence. anywhere. or rather maybe what i would like to say is that if i left evidence, like that splotch of paint on my arm, it was intentional. I will never leave you that smile on my lips, or that bruise on my arm.
sade
The evidence was there. She couldn’t refute it though she tried. She tried with all her might. No rationality. Pure emotion. Pure unstoppable emotion emanated from her. She loved him, she cried. She loved him. But staring her in the face was the one fact she tried so hard to ignore: love does not exist.
Maranda
the evidence hides what truly needs seen from those that want and need it all life wants evidence to prove them selves but for once you can not have faith has no evidence.
Hex
She had examined the evidence time and time again. Anyway she looked at things, it all came out the same. It was time for her to leave. She’d tried everything, written all the pro and con lists, and no matter how much she wanted things to be otherwise, they weren’t. Tonight, she was going to have to break off the wedding. If only it wasn’t tomorrow.
She hated herself for the timing.
Jules
It wasn’t the feeling that still lingered, it was the evidence lyting on the floor thaT REALLy bothered him. Undeniable proof that she had been there, most likely to tear a new hole in his heart.
chris Batstone
There is absolutely no evidence that true love exist, but it’s reassuring to know that we all believe in it.
Stephanie
you have a lack of evidence. No way you can hold me. There is plenty of evidence about malfeasance but it wasn’t me! I swear! It was McCain’s fault! It was Obama’s fault! Why won’t you believe me?
thehawke
the detective in a classic khaki colored trench coat with a magnifying glass loomed over the street, face covered to all, and ominous to those passing by. the man was tall and had on huge black boot that thudded on the streets.
kailyn
I didn’t need an answer or verbal confirmation. The evidence was in the expression on his face.
its something everyone (at least i do) take for granted..that to believe.to judge..to understand we must first have evidence in order to have basis..too many assumptions..too many mistakes..and too many heartaches happened..all because of lack of evidence
I have evidence that most people are indebtedly in love with themselves. Not as narcissists, but genuinely feel they have the power to make themselves a better place, like doves moving South for the Winter. What’s wrong with that?
make it believe than nothing is conciously dreaming…
long enough i just said things that I didnt want to… heck it feels bad, and somehow you just dont know what to do…
i feel so busted, heck i feel so bloated myself all of the sudden,dreaming hoping on something that i will never get
i cursed myself from bed on the way it was horrible,
ass holes, jerk, faking myself, business that i do not wanted to, i feel like an asshole, go write it up. nowwwww….
When I think about how my life has gotten worse, evidence is what did it. I wish I never knew for sure, I would rather trust and be wrong. But evidence is proof, and it has ruined the way I view my species. That is sad, I want to cry.
the need to feel like your opinion is valid, that there is some reason that you feel the way you do…that all you feel isn’t just a fiment of your imagination or a desperate reaction to something that very well may not need a reaction to…
as she stumbled upon the evidence of her fathers death, she was flabbergasted,because right next to him, was her husband gun in his hand and knife in the head.
The police investigator looked down through the chimney. Much to his amazement he saw what looked like the glimmer of a precious stone. Slowly he reached his hand into the soot covered hole and pulled out what appeared to be a wedding ring.
All that remained of the once proud society was a building. It was simple, yet elegant, and none of the archaeologists knew what it had been for.
It had been a library.
evidently they were liars about it summer after eight grade i w as fourteen they had the evidence and i had a bad family name my brother arson james got off we didn’t =reform= psychos and an anarchist and madmen and liars.
Evidence is the stuff of the law enforcement gods that reign over us with steely eyes and distant forms. They say the long arm of the law can reach anywhere, into infinity, but it is constrained by evidence.
evidence…that i’m loved – you…that i’m blessed – you…that i’m happy – you…that i’m headed in the right direction – you…you’re the 1 4 me…you.
there’s a small small substance, big as the sky. then there’s a little small inkling of my own future…shining full like sun. the evidence of us…having begun.
evidence is information related to a certain topic.
example: evidence is used in court to prove a persons guilt or innocence, the evidence related to the case in direct and important ways.
ahh no time
Where’s my book of matches? How’d this tear get in my shirt? Is that a cut beneath fabric? I can’t remember when I got that. Is my hair falling out? Which boots did I wear? Did we take the license plate off? Do you think they followed us there? Did we take the license plates off? Did we hit them hard enough? Do you think they’ll remember, do you think they’ll wake up?
It was evident that the evidence of the entire circumstance was faulty. The roses meant nothing, the leaves hid it all. What kind of evidence are petals without fragrance, or a bush with too many thorns? Evidence without meaning. That’s what it is. That’s all it will ever be. Unconvincing evidence that contradicts all.
The crime scene looked empty. there was nothing out of place. no cups were nudged, no shoes were shuffled. And then he saw it. A pair of glasses, half opened, sitting at the edge of the couch on the floor. He lifted the bottom flap of the sofa. There was the body.
The evidence was as clear as the smug look on his face. Her body lay mangled on the roadside. Burnt and beaten. The young boy in the backseat sat with a terrified look on his face, frozen in time. The older man turned and looked crazed at the young boy. A snarled, wild animal look on his face. He grinned and sneered, “Now isn’t your mother beautiful?”
evidence of who you are. the life you lead. its all in the clothes you wear the car you drive the house you live in; so why not free yourself from those limitations. Remove the materials and gain actual substance in life. Think, exist, be.
Evidence incriminates people or supports someone’s opinion.
It is powerful in so many ways.
And if you are going to commit a crime, don’t leave evidence.
The evidence is clear: the country is in a state of panic.
We have a SNL skit for a potential VP.
We have a superman caricature saving our economy, then sabotaging it.
We are down a trillion bucks.
But, who’s the judge?
there was never any “real” evidence, only the perhaps. Perhaps it means he did it. Perhaps it means he didn’t. Perhaps it doesn’t matter, as long as we can pin it on, classify, move on. Nevermind what’s left in the wake.
the evidence was that she never knew what would happen next
there fore
there
was
NO
evidence
no trail that she ever existed
she found it romantic unto herself
and wept and smiled at the simeltaneous beauty and futility
Looking every where for evidence that you still love me. I keep coming up empty handed and you can’t even look me in the eye. I try to touch your hand and you pull away, disgusted. Where there used to b a spark between you and me now there is nothing. I hate myself because i still do love you and you can’t even stand the sight of me.
Criminals would be free birds without this wonderful little invention by scientists, or policemen, or whoever. It can, however, been manipulated and even made up. Careful about that, don’t outright believe everything that you see. Sometimes crap really is CRAP.
it came to me like i thought it was a detective. the room was set in a dark, and hustky place, and fed through these heavy lies of deciet and treachery, all could hear the heavy moans and cries from those within, those who had been hurt by it, that it
They will never find the evidence; never, never; dirty dirty; evidence evidence. Screaming, screaming, bloody bloody. Crying crying, hate hate, sadness sadness. No evidence.
sometimes you feel like you can get away with it. But then you hear the voices that suggest they know something. The Light on your face is burning. The questions are like daggers. You can’t fight the evidence.
proof that we are thinking
I lost the meaning yesterday. You see, the proof wasn’t there, not in his eyes when he stared at his cereal, the back at me, coco pebbles sticking to his chin. It wasn’t there when he looked at his dresser drawer for a full minute, staring at black Calvin Klein in the early morning darkness. My alarm was still ringing.
There was no evidence as we walked, not touching, through the park, the dog leading us past forms that I suppose were people. Nothing to indicate was pulled pillows closer to his sides, sitting on the couch, surrounding himself with plump pattered silk.
It’s not that I wasn’t looking. A desperate magnification scrutinized each breath, each gaze and each motion. I was paying attention.
But the evidence was slim. Doubts crept in. And I will go to bed tonight, next to him, not knowing.
fingerprints cover everything…the walls…the floor…all the objects…they cover every square inch of the place…except for the most important thing…the body…it’s spotless…cleaned up as if he was going out for drinks and dancing…and from what I’ve seen…that was the plan…until this happened…they came, they saw, they conquered…who they were and how they conquered is still a mystery…there was no struggle…no scratch was made…not a hair on him was out of place…it’s as if this was done through a poison of sorts…yet…not a hint of poison…not an iota…as if he just decided to lay down and sleep…fully dressed to the nines…maybe the nines wasn’t his cup of tea…maybe he was more of a sixes and sevens type…his counterpart was a thing of sheer grace and power…just sitting on the vanity…staring at her prone mate…perfume bottle being impatiently shifted from hand to hand…her make-up is strategically placed…hair coiffed to perfection…dressed in emerald silk and several diamonds of a rather large size…a look upon her face that; even though her eyes are dead, is beautiful yet haunted…as if this death had only the slightest of effects on her…but all she does is sit there…waiting for her partner to be done getting ready…for the bars are only open for so long…and dancing is only fun once it starts…she snaps out of her reverie and slips off of the vanity…sauntering over to the body and stooping down to touch its face with a delicate hand…her mouth hovers by its ear…she whispers, “Wake up, my love…dreams are not becoming, or so you’ve told me.”…with a smug look hardening her features, she waltzed out of the room…the minute she stepped foot into the hallway, her mate’s eyes snapped open and he sat up…he blinked a few times, taking in the scene before him…he stood up and brushed himself off, as if he hadn’t just been lying on the floor dead for the past few hours…with a quick nod towards the people in the room, he strolled out of the room and snaked an arm around his partner’s waist…leaning into her side, he breathed in her ear, “Death isn’t a dream, just a defiant stare at life.”…they left the place…leaving all of us with very puzzled looks marring our brows…
i have no evidence against him. all i know is that it’s hard for me to trust him when he acts the way he does. flirting. thats the extent of it. is it my jealousy or just the fact that he could hurt me again? when i try to talk to him about it i lost my train of thought and cant get the words across the way i’d like to. im speechless. is it that im wrong? or that im right.
i don’t leave evidence. anywhere. or rather maybe what i would like to say is that if i left evidence, like that splotch of paint on my arm, it was intentional. I will never leave you that smile on my lips, or that bruise on my arm.
The evidence was there. She couldn’t refute it though she tried. She tried with all her might. No rationality. Pure emotion. Pure unstoppable emotion emanated from her. She loved him, she cried. She loved him. But staring her in the face was the one fact she tried so hard to ignore: love does not exist.
the evidence hides what truly needs seen from those that want and need it all life wants evidence to prove them selves but for once you can not have faith has no evidence.
She had examined the evidence time and time again. Anyway she looked at things, it all came out the same. It was time for her to leave. She’d tried everything, written all the pro and con lists, and no matter how much she wanted things to be otherwise, they weren’t. Tonight, she was going to have to break off the wedding. If only it wasn’t tomorrow.
She hated herself for the timing.
It wasn’t the feeling that still lingered, it was the evidence lyting on the floor thaT REALLy bothered him. Undeniable proof that she had been there, most likely to tear a new hole in his heart.
There is absolutely no evidence that true love exist, but it’s reassuring to know that we all believe in it.
you have a lack of evidence. No way you can hold me. There is plenty of evidence about malfeasance but it wasn’t me! I swear! It was McCain’s fault! It was Obama’s fault! Why won’t you believe me?
the detective in a classic khaki colored trench coat with a magnifying glass loomed over the street, face covered to all, and ominous to those passing by. the man was tall and had on huge black boot that thudded on the streets.
I didn’t need an answer or verbal confirmation. The evidence was in the expression on his face.