“The furnace is out again,” Lisa thought she could see her breath as she talked. After a pause to consider going to to restart it the couple burrowed under the covers again. It would still be broken later.
“Why is it SUCH A FUCKING FURNACE IN HERE?” Elton yelled at the top of his voice.
“It’s not like I can just flip on the A.C.,” Georgi replied irritably, giving his butt a shove. “Maybe if you would crawl faster we could get out of this ventilation shaft sometime before next Christmas.”
The furnace told me it was hungry, but I ain’t got a thing to feed it. The furnace said he’s too tired to work, but I ain’t got a thing to feed it. The furnace’s flame was dieing, so I through in my underwear! The flame started to explode out of the furnace. I took a step back, then suddenly my breath wasn’t visible, sweating and my furnace had gained the energy to work for centuries to come.
The house began shaking from the ground up so, bravely, I ran to the basement to investigate. And there, in front of me, was the fiery shaky monster. She shook and she spit and she moaned and she whined.
Cheeks burning like a furious fiery furnace. And I can’t look up. Can’t look at him. I know they’re all looking, but I can’t look back. My face is all splattered with blushing. And I just can’t look.
I’m supposed to keep you warm at night, with a fire or even a hug. I’m supposed to comfort you and let you know that I’m here forever, and that I love you, and that I will never let you go. That’s my job.
my love burns for you within my soul like a fire in a furnace. The waves of heat cover me in a dazed stupor in which i see little. just me and you in this world alone but together
Shelbee
The sound of the air coming out of my vents relaxes me and whisps me to sleep.
It roars I scream. Steam blasts from its salivating mouth thirsty for my blood. His eyes are burning like flames licking out and reaching for my cool body.
The is a furnace in this room I live in. It doesn’t work. Its so cold outside that i don’t know what I would do if it did work. No, I think I would freak out and not know what tot do. Its always cold in here. Always freezing and frosty. I am getting used to it. Never mind that the outside that is 14 below. Why is it so fucking cold outside?
She sat down on the bottom step and listened intently. Was it going to start? That fan must be at least 30 years old. Now was certainly not the time for it to decide to not work. All the sudden, it kicked on and the furnace was working!
furnace lit a fire in the heart of its belly and yelled this is silly all this heat and no smoke what a blow to ones ego to know that you can set fires with no real flame
a furnace warms you,
covering you with the heater.
Useful, yet mostly brown and rusty.
smelling like home.
Smelling like boiled water
Susanna
A firy pit of hell centered around you and me. holding our very being suffacating it capturing its very being. You and i held together. This firey pit of hell is my heaven. You and i
The smell was what always hit people first. It’s how they knew. Walking into the building was like getting hit in the face. It was the smell of the furnace. But their furnace was…different.
Furnace, Ponoti, Walluna. Das waren die drei Namen. Es waren keine besonderen Namen. Jede hätte so heißen können. Aber die Namen waren auch nicht das, was sie zu etwas Herausragendem machte. Nein, das wirklich wichtige an ihnen waren ihre Füße, ganz besonders die Zehennägel.
the woman in front of ‘it’ was lying on her back-slightly shaking- her knees folded backwards and her fingers curled up.it’s sensors recorded that the woman had just evacuated her bowels and emptied her bladder.there was a whirl and a click.somehow somewhere from deep inside of the machine,a malfuction registered :query:how can a machine find that form such a beatiful piece of art and itself an antique furnace
A furnace makes for a great scary setting. Not only because of the likes of Freddy Krueger, but just because it’s dank and darn and, well, fire is always intimidating. That is the best setting, as a rule, way better than the fad of zombies or something.
it was so hot, so incredily hot. I couldn’t think, couldn’t move. I tried to reach out for something familiar but found nothing I could hold on to. Why was I here – who had done this to me. I tried to think back to where I had been just minutes before.
She stood by the furnace, the billowing waves of heat washing around her. She was waiting, for who or what, it wasn’t clear through the frostbitten window panes.
I used to be afraid of the furnace in the basement at my dad’s house. It was this big, looming, scary hot-metal giant robot that ate things dropped down the vents. A place where Legos went to die.
But it really just kept us warm.
R
The room in the belly of the basement was consumed by a churning belching monster and it was fearsome yet fascinating. I missed it when the new owners came in while we packed up 60 years of clutter, and hauled its ass out of there through every narrow portals, stripped of its dignity, broken into pieces like an old man’s bones and crumpled cigarette packs too late to understand its danger.
nannan
furnace makes me think of Home Alone. Then I think of cartoons, and Dora the Explorer, to Sesame Street, then to my co-worker, who I think resembles Big Bird. Think tall with skinny legs, pot belly.
I barely heard him. “Is this… is this Hell?” I asked him tearfully.
“What?” He looked taken aback. “A fiery blast furnace where you’re punished for your ‘sins’? No. There IS no such place.” A moment’s pause. “Did you think I was the devil?”
The furnace was small, but it provided great warmth. The heart of the furnace was hearty and provided a space for a hearty fire to burn. Everyone has furnace within themselves, but they have to let it burn and grow with fire.
The heat is overpowering, yet I can’t seem to drag myself away. Warmth is comforting, familiar, and I don’t want to be stuck in the cold again.
So I keep drawing myself closer to the furnace, to the flames that tear me apart but at the same time keep me together.
It was as if she was in a furnace. Everyone was looking at her, waiting for her to make up her mind. But she couldn’t. It was too hot. She was on fire. “Stop looking at me!” she wanted to shout. “Leave me alone!”
warm
like a coat
like a mother’s hug
and it burns, it burns
(said elphaba, the green–wicked? maybe that, too–witch of the west)
like salt in a cut
but furnaces are supposed to be warm, aren’t they?
warm, warm, warm
what i would give to be warm right now
i hate winter.
Burns. Like the letters that come to my mind when I think of you. The love letters that we wrote- said- all done- all gone. Burning in the furnace of your soul. Of your being. Nothing is left but ash. And the memory of what was.
No one dared too look in the furnace. No matter how loud I screamed or how much I kicked, they never looked, attributing the sounds to the age of the home. Every day I continue to kick and continue to yell and everyday they wonder what would happen if they had found me.
“The furnace is out again,” Lisa thought she could see her breath as she talked. After a pause to consider going to to restart it the couple burrowed under the covers again. It would still be broken later.
“Why is it SUCH A FUCKING FURNACE IN HERE?” Elton yelled at the top of his voice.
“It’s not like I can just flip on the A.C.,” Georgi replied irritably, giving his butt a shove. “Maybe if you would crawl faster we could get out of this ventilation shaft sometime before next Christmas.”
The furnace told me it was hungry, but I ain’t got a thing to feed it. The furnace said he’s too tired to work, but I ain’t got a thing to feed it. The furnace’s flame was dieing, so I through in my underwear! The flame started to explode out of the furnace. I took a step back, then suddenly my breath wasn’t visible, sweating and my furnace had gained the energy to work for centuries to come.
The house began shaking from the ground up so, bravely, I ran to the basement to investigate. And there, in front of me, was the fiery shaky monster. She shook and she spit and she moaned and she whined.
it’s child turn the heart up. I’m frozen, but it’s broken. Please fix it. It’s three degrees outside.
Cheeks burning like a furious fiery furnace. And I can’t look up. Can’t look at him. I know they’re all looking, but I can’t look back. My face is all splattered with blushing. And I just can’t look.
basement
hot
not
to be near
startling at times
there’s fire in there
to heat
our house.
i hope no mouse
has his house
near there.
I’m supposed to keep you warm at night, with a fire or even a hug. I’m supposed to comfort you and let you know that I’m here forever, and that I love you, and that I will never let you go. That’s my job.
my love burns for you within my soul like a fire in a furnace. The waves of heat cover me in a dazed stupor in which i see little. just me and you in this world alone but together
The sound of the air coming out of my vents relaxes me and whisps me to sleep.
It roars I scream. Steam blasts from its salivating mouth thirsty for my blood. His eyes are burning like flames licking out and reaching for my cool body.
The is a furnace in this room I live in. It doesn’t work. Its so cold outside that i don’t know what I would do if it did work. No, I think I would freak out and not know what tot do. Its always cold in here. Always freezing and frosty. I am getting used to it. Never mind that the outside that is 14 below. Why is it so fucking cold outside?
She sat down on the bottom step and listened intently. Was it going to start? That fan must be at least 30 years old. Now was certainly not the time for it to decide to not work. All the sudden, it kicked on and the furnace was working!
The furnace is hot. It burns my hand. I was rather supid to stick my hand in the furnace, wasn’t I? Oh, well. I learned my lesson…I think.
furnace lit a fire in the heart of its belly and yelled this is silly all this heat and no smoke what a blow to ones ego to know that you can set fires with no real flame
the furnace feels so good on a winter’s stormy night
but a fireplace would be more delightful to watch the flames dance and bend
It rumbled, rumble rumble rumble.
Rumble.
I was afraid when I walked out past it in the night…to pee. It was like a monster.
I was scared.
It rumbled.
Oh no!
I was okay.
a furnace warms you,
covering you with the heater.
Useful, yet mostly brown and rusty.
smelling like home.
Smelling like boiled water
A firy pit of hell centered around you and me. holding our very being suffacating it capturing its very being. You and i held together. This firey pit of hell is my heaven. You and i
The smell was what always hit people first. It’s how they knew. Walking into the building was like getting hit in the face. It was the smell of the furnace. But their furnace was…different.
Furnace, Ponoti, Walluna. Das waren die drei Namen. Es waren keine besonderen Namen. Jede hätte so heißen können. Aber die Namen waren auch nicht das, was sie zu etwas Herausragendem machte. Nein, das wirklich wichtige an ihnen waren ihre Füße, ganz besonders die Zehennägel.
the woman in front of ‘it’ was lying on her back-slightly shaking- her knees folded backwards and her fingers curled up.it’s sensors recorded that the woman had just evacuated her bowels and emptied her bladder.there was a whirl and a click.somehow somewhere from deep inside of the machine,a malfuction registered :query:how can a machine find that form such a beatiful piece of art and itself an antique furnace
we have a wall furnace. i love it! the landlord pays the gas, so we don’t pay to be warm. the cat likes it too.
A furnace makes for a great scary setting. Not only because of the likes of Freddy Krueger, but just because it’s dank and darn and, well, fire is always intimidating. That is the best setting, as a rule, way better than the fad of zombies or something.
it was so hot, so incredily hot. I couldn’t think, couldn’t move. I tried to reach out for something familiar but found nothing I could hold on to. Why was I here – who had done this to me. I tried to think back to where I had been just minutes before.
She stood by the furnace, the billowing waves of heat washing around her. She was waiting, for who or what, it wasn’t clear through the frostbitten window panes.
I used to be afraid of the furnace in the basement at my dad’s house. It was this big, looming, scary hot-metal giant robot that ate things dropped down the vents. A place where Legos went to die.
But it really just kept us warm.
The room in the belly of the basement was consumed by a churning belching monster and it was fearsome yet fascinating. I missed it when the new owners came in while we packed up 60 years of clutter, and hauled its ass out of there through every narrow portals, stripped of its dignity, broken into pieces like an old man’s bones and crumpled cigarette packs too late to understand its danger.
furnace makes me think of Home Alone. Then I think of cartoons, and Dora the Explorer, to Sesame Street, then to my co-worker, who I think resembles Big Bird. Think tall with skinny legs, pot belly.
I barely heard him. “Is this… is this Hell?” I asked him tearfully.
“What?” He looked taken aback. “A fiery blast furnace where you’re punished for your ‘sins’? No. There IS no such place.” A moment’s pause. “Did you think I was the devil?”
He looked so offended, I had to laugh.
Good: Tea pots and ceramic plates.
Bad: Where you go if you don’t know Jesus.
Stick to pottery, yea?
The furnace was small, but it provided great warmth. The heart of the furnace was hearty and provided a space for a hearty fire to burn. Everyone has furnace within themselves, but they have to let it burn and grow with fire.
I took the garbage outside and noticed the weather, hot as a furnace!
The heat is overpowering, yet I can’t seem to drag myself away. Warmth is comforting, familiar, and I don’t want to be stuck in the cold again.
So I keep drawing myself closer to the furnace, to the flames that tear me apart but at the same time keep me together.
Warm, great times! I love winter!
It was as if she was in a furnace. Everyone was looking at her, waiting for her to make up her mind. But she couldn’t. It was too hot. She was on fire. “Stop looking at me!” she wanted to shout. “Leave me alone!”
Regis turned on the 18th century furnace and sat down on the leopard skin rug. He patted the space next to him and raised one eyebrow in my direction.
I stepped forward, paused, feeling the warmth of the fire spread through my body… would I take that leap?
warm
like a coat
like a mother’s hug
and it burns, it burns
(said elphaba, the green–wicked? maybe that, too–witch of the west)
like salt in a cut
but furnaces are supposed to be warm, aren’t they?
warm, warm, warm
what i would give to be warm right now
i hate winter.
Burns. Like the letters that come to my mind when I think of you. The love letters that we wrote- said- all done- all gone. Burning in the furnace of your soul. Of your being. Nothing is left but ash. And the memory of what was.
No one dared too look in the furnace. No matter how loud I screamed or how much I kicked, they never looked, attributing the sounds to the age of the home. Every day I continue to kick and continue to yell and everyday they wonder what would happen if they had found me.