i just SPILLED my time… !!! You guys all spilled your time! Go do something usefull…!!!
WOOOOW
milk. Don’t cry. For me Argentina. Here I come, way back where I started from. Here to Eternity. And Back. Back, Back, hey, hey! Jude, don’t make it bad. Bad Leroy Brown.
I failed to see the consequences of my actions. The red paint spilled on the floor, eating through the carpet, soaking through the pores of the wood. It was like you, eating through me, getting under my skin, staying there, as if to say, “you will never be the same.”
I spilled everything on the floor. I watched, my eyes fixed on all the colors, mixing on the polished wood, slowly becoming black, like it was eating away everything that mattered. I don’t know. At that moment, I didn’t know what to feel.
The morning was beautiful and I was delighted by smelling the sweet aroma of coffee brewing in the espresso machine. Poured into a small cup the liquid ambrosia was ready to drink, but my coffee was spilled and my morning was ruined.
Krix
Spilled secrets and long conversations. Light hearts that can make you fly. We can communicate. Thats BIG you know. BIG. I guess thats why I love talking to you.
Isha
Nicole’s lips stretched into a brief smile as she prepared the climax of her new unique creation. Why was art so neat nowadays, she thought as she tied each paint tube with string. Red, purple, blue, orange, black, green. It was going to be magnificent, Nicole just knew it.
I wish it would spill. Spill all over me and outside of me. Like milk over flowing from the microwave when you overheat it. It is building up and becoming too much for me to bear and maybe if it would spill out I would feel less pressure, less intensity, less of this drive to do stupid shit.
Blood was spilled, hearts were broken, families were torn apart. So what? Same old, same old. Their grief didn’t matter, their suffering, their pain, it didn’t matter in the least. Frankly, he couldn’t care less. She was all that mattered. As long as she was happy all was right with the world, even if it was burning and everyone else was screaming. As long as she laughed amongst the screams everything was as it should be.
Mya Freeman
What was the phrase? Don`t cry over spilled milk? But she couldn`t. She couldn`t supress her tears, nor call back the many that had spilled down her face as she looked at the precious liquid dripping from the table edge, knowing it was the last time she and her brother Floki would be able to afford such a beverage in a long time.
If you’ve got something and it goes everywhere then that means you’ve spilled something. You spill things out of cups and things that hold liquid. Sometimes it can get messy and you’ve got to clean it up.
The milk spilled out of the glass onto the table. It was early in the morning, not quite fully awake. It had been a trying day, with so many things happening all around me. We hope for better days ahead.
MS_CITIZEN
” Don’t you lose control” I thought, its hard to calm yourself in times of desperation. The fight to save your humanity intensifies day by day, I wish to hurt him, in hopes of making him feel what he once did. But I doubt pain would accomplish anything, he’s nothing now but a waste of resources, obbssessed by what had possessed even the best of us.
My heart wept onto the ground, spilling over the sides as it boiled. I clasped my hands on my chest to try and contain it, but the emotion kept bursting through. It toppled all the pride I had conjured as it flowed, embracing passerbys. It had to stop, it needed to be ripped out, stomped on, wasted, and left alone. Urgency grew as I knelt over, gasping for what little air I could manage to inhale, it suffocated me.
The last precious drops spilled from the glass vial. That was it. All of our work, all the hardships we endured, all the losses we had suffered, and in the end, it all came to naught. Why did we undertake all that if we were doomed to lose the cure just as we reached the end of our journey?
I spilled the words out to you, I don’t think you understand what that meant to me but with each secret that left my lips, the more I was letting you in and letting my walls down. all these things spilled, for you.
annie
Spilled milk, spilled heart, spilled love, spilled emotion. Dreaded fluctuation creates fear in us that is perceived as cowardice but in reality is hesitancy
Amy
The alcohol spilled onto the table, and her eyes immediately filled with tears. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, half cowering into a tiny shell. The other girl looked at her with large, concerned eyes, taking the hands that were already springing to action into an embrace. “Listen to me, you have nothing to be sorry for. Okay?” A soft answer was her reply. “Okay.”
I have when I spill any sort of liquid when I am trying to hard not to spill it. Just kind of an annoyance because you are so focused on not spilling a drop and bam! You spill a lot more. Yeah, that’s all.
irv
The fire spilled onto the houses before the sun rose between the mountains. The sky burned amber and the cries of children echoed throughout the small town of Cauldwell.
Their eyes wandered in a tenative manner, climbing to the woman in red. I dont remember when it started to spill out, but by the end, everything was soaked, my mind liquified as the meer aroma intoxicated me. It was dripping everywhere, from the nameless faces to their crisp hands.as she slowly drifted toward the hardwood floor. We were silent, as one by one we filed out of the room. The taste of iron in our mouths.
I am a single thought spun into the universe so as to create something bigger than myself. I, together with good intentions, flaws and a radical blend of ideas, have the notion that whatever materializes into my mind has the legitimate capability of coming alive. I am a sudden trail of bright red ink spilled over onto a starry white canvas, searching for a sign that while i am lost in translation I am okay and will come out more vibrant, thicker, and more courageous than before. I myself, am a mix of star dust and potential, created by the hands of God himself, able to breathe life into the complex and ever so changing world that is His creation and throne. I am the novels I read, the films I watch, the words that slip through my mouth and out on the tongue. I am the speechlessness you surrender to after climbing to your highest and coming back down, only to be caught in a wave of cool lips and consoling hands. I am, I am, I am. I am another stitch in the fabric of that one thing that’s bigger than myself and I dare not blink.
Don’t cry over spilled milk, my mom always used to say.
It’s ironic, really. I found her dead in the kitchen with milk all over the floor. Heart attack.
Brandon
spilled. hmm grape juice. not milk. not worth crying over. but damn I remembered one time i spilled a glass and i wanted to cry. so tasty. I wanted it so badly.
Sarah Hollis
I languish in disgression
yet i seem so trusting
i spill my life onto others,
i do this to hide from the world.
the most clever disguise is one that hides you in plain sight.
No one suspects the emotion behind the mask
Covered in laughter
a nonchalant aura, it embodies my very being
i have become it, i feel protected.
Safe.
A
Anything spilled falls downwards, can be wiped to erase the mess, but usually it cannot be reversed. This applies to personal feelings, liquids,secrets, quarrels and beans.
vdot mason
spilled milk, spilled cat juice friar tuck gone to pot, big lips and flabby hips. robin the hood with bow bent back, an arrow leveled against the actor hack, clouds gone dark and dreary, the sheriff of nowheresville.
She spilled the green soup across the white page. Damn, she said out loud, feeling her face contort as it so often did these days.
margaret
I spilled boiling water on my hand once. That’s okay, I deserved it. I wondered what you would have thought and what you would have done. At the same time I really didn’t want to know.
I spilled boiling water on myself. That’s okay though, I deserved it. I winder what you would’ve thought. Don’t tell me.
Cypress
Milk spilled all over the place, the white glistening on the table top and covering the paper I finished writing. The ink smeared down the page, ruining the work that I’ve done. How can i explain that the white stain on the paper was an accident. Hopefully my boss would understand; he can be an unforgiving man sometimes.
Benny Oak
Her hair spilled out of the bonnet, that’s how much of it there was, and escaped down her neck in auburn tendrils. I thought she must not like to cut it, but then most girls didn’t. And I also thought she didn’t look quite right in that dress…
blood, fallen cup, spilled out, words spilling out, no control, spreading, water, seeping out, spilled blood
Sarah
The milk covered the black and white checked kitchen floor. The cat swished its tail at the glass, causing the crash and glass to be splintered around the apartment.
gin
Each spilled coffee stain on the table has it’s own story. Every single one of them. For example, take that long skinny one over there – that’s when they decided to make it look ‘authentic’ and just chucked coffee at the table. That one there is a true coffee stain, happened when we laughed so hard the just coffee slipped out of our hands.
I thought this said slipped at first. I began to write about that at first, and now i am out of time to give you a full explanation. What’s a girl to do?
Hallard
Your morning would never be right if you want a bowl of cereal and the only milk available gets spilled.
i just SPILLED my time… !!! You guys all spilled your time! Go do something usefull…!!!
milk. Don’t cry. For me Argentina. Here I come, way back where I started from. Here to Eternity. And Back. Back, Back, hey, hey! Jude, don’t make it bad. Bad Leroy Brown.
I failed to see the consequences of my actions. The red paint spilled on the floor, eating through the carpet, soaking through the pores of the wood. It was like you, eating through me, getting under my skin, staying there, as if to say, “you will never be the same.”
I spilled everything on the floor. I watched, my eyes fixed on all the colors, mixing on the polished wood, slowly becoming black, like it was eating away everything that mattered. I don’t know. At that moment, I didn’t know what to feel.
The morning was beautiful and I was delighted by smelling the sweet aroma of coffee brewing in the espresso machine. Poured into a small cup the liquid ambrosia was ready to drink, but my coffee was spilled and my morning was ruined.
Spilled secrets and long conversations. Light hearts that can make you fly. We can communicate. Thats BIG you know. BIG. I guess thats why I love talking to you.
Nicole’s lips stretched into a brief smile as she prepared the climax of her new unique creation. Why was art so neat nowadays, she thought as she tied each paint tube with string. Red, purple, blue, orange, black, green. It was going to be magnificent, Nicole just knew it.
White on brown. Nobody really does cry over it, but I do. I always do. What can I say? I’m really such a child…
spilt or spilled. Raging about the road spilled over from the interstate to the Internet.
ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff
I wish it would spill. Spill all over me and outside of me. Like milk over flowing from the microwave when you overheat it. It is building up and becoming too much for me to bear and maybe if it would spill out I would feel less pressure, less intensity, less of this drive to do stupid shit.
Blood was spilled, hearts were broken, families were torn apart. So what? Same old, same old. Their grief didn’t matter, their suffering, their pain, it didn’t matter in the least. Frankly, he couldn’t care less. She was all that mattered. As long as she was happy all was right with the world, even if it was burning and everyone else was screaming. As long as she laughed amongst the screams everything was as it should be.
What was the phrase? Don`t cry over spilled milk? But she couldn`t. She couldn`t supress her tears, nor call back the many that had spilled down her face as she looked at the precious liquid dripping from the table edge, knowing it was the last time she and her brother Floki would be able to afford such a beverage in a long time.
If you’ve got something and it goes everywhere then that means you’ve spilled something. You spill things out of cups and things that hold liquid. Sometimes it can get messy and you’ve got to clean it up.
The milk spilled out of the glass onto the table. It was early in the morning, not quite fully awake. It had been a trying day, with so many things happening all around me. We hope for better days ahead.
” Don’t you lose control” I thought, its hard to calm yourself in times of desperation. The fight to save your humanity intensifies day by day, I wish to hurt him, in hopes of making him feel what he once did. But I doubt pain would accomplish anything, he’s nothing now but a waste of resources, obbssessed by what had possessed even the best of us.
My heart wept onto the ground, spilling over the sides as it boiled. I clasped my hands on my chest to try and contain it, but the emotion kept bursting through. It toppled all the pride I had conjured as it flowed, embracing passerbys. It had to stop, it needed to be ripped out, stomped on, wasted, and left alone. Urgency grew as I knelt over, gasping for what little air I could manage to inhale, it suffocated me.
The last precious drops spilled from the glass vial. That was it. All of our work, all the hardships we endured, all the losses we had suffered, and in the end, it all came to naught. Why did we undertake all that if we were doomed to lose the cure just as we reached the end of our journey?
I spilled the words out to you, I don’t think you understand what that meant to me but with each secret that left my lips, the more I was letting you in and letting my walls down. all these things spilled, for you.
Spilled milk, spilled heart, spilled love, spilled emotion. Dreaded fluctuation creates fear in us that is perceived as cowardice but in reality is hesitancy
The alcohol spilled onto the table, and her eyes immediately filled with tears. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, half cowering into a tiny shell. The other girl looked at her with large, concerned eyes, taking the hands that were already springing to action into an embrace. “Listen to me, you have nothing to be sorry for. Okay?” A soft answer was her reply. “Okay.”
I have when I spill any sort of liquid when I am trying to hard not to spill it. Just kind of an annoyance because you are so focused on not spilling a drop and bam! You spill a lot more. Yeah, that’s all.
The fire spilled onto the houses before the sun rose between the mountains. The sky burned amber and the cries of children echoed throughout the small town of Cauldwell.
Their eyes wandered in a tenative manner, climbing to the woman in red. I dont remember when it started to spill out, but by the end, everything was soaked, my mind liquified as the meer aroma intoxicated me. It was dripping everywhere, from the nameless faces to their crisp hands.as she slowly drifted toward the hardwood floor. We were silent, as one by one we filed out of the room. The taste of iron in our mouths.
There it goes, spewing all over the damn place.
Another accident to feel awkward about, how many times
am i going to put myself in these situations.
I am a single thought spun into the universe so as to create something bigger than myself. I, together with good intentions, flaws and a radical blend of ideas, have the notion that whatever materializes into my mind has the legitimate capability of coming alive. I am a sudden trail of bright red ink spilled over onto a starry white canvas, searching for a sign that while i am lost in translation I am okay and will come out more vibrant, thicker, and more courageous than before. I myself, am a mix of star dust and potential, created by the hands of God himself, able to breathe life into the complex and ever so changing world that is His creation and throne. I am the novels I read, the films I watch, the words that slip through my mouth and out on the tongue. I am the speechlessness you surrender to after climbing to your highest and coming back down, only to be caught in a wave of cool lips and consoling hands. I am, I am, I am. I am another stitch in the fabric of that one thing that’s bigger than myself and I dare not blink.
Don’t cry over spilled milk, my mom always used to say.
It’s ironic, really. I found her dead in the kitchen with milk all over the floor. Heart attack.
spilled. hmm grape juice. not milk. not worth crying over. but damn I remembered one time i spilled a glass and i wanted to cry. so tasty. I wanted it so badly.
I languish in disgression
yet i seem so trusting
i spill my life onto others,
i do this to hide from the world.
the most clever disguise is one that hides you in plain sight.
No one suspects the emotion behind the mask
Covered in laughter
a nonchalant aura, it embodies my very being
i have become it, i feel protected.
Safe.
Anything spilled falls downwards, can be wiped to erase the mess, but usually it cannot be reversed. This applies to personal feelings, liquids,secrets, quarrels and beans.
spilled milk, spilled cat juice friar tuck gone to pot, big lips and flabby hips. robin the hood with bow bent back, an arrow leveled against the actor hack, clouds gone dark and dreary, the sheriff of nowheresville.
She spilled the green soup across the white page. Damn, she said out loud, feeling her face contort as it so often did these days.
I spilled boiling water on my hand once. That’s okay, I deserved it. I wondered what you would have thought and what you would have done. At the same time I really didn’t want to know.
I spilled boiling water on myself. That’s okay though, I deserved it. I winder what you would’ve thought. Don’t tell me.
Milk spilled all over the place, the white glistening on the table top and covering the paper I finished writing. The ink smeared down the page, ruining the work that I’ve done. How can i explain that the white stain on the paper was an accident. Hopefully my boss would understand; he can be an unforgiving man sometimes.
Her hair spilled out of the bonnet, that’s how much of it there was, and escaped down her neck in auburn tendrils. I thought she must not like to cut it, but then most girls didn’t. And I also thought she didn’t look quite right in that dress…
blood, fallen cup, spilled out, words spilling out, no control, spreading, water, seeping out, spilled blood
The milk covered the black and white checked kitchen floor. The cat swished its tail at the glass, causing the crash and glass to be splintered around the apartment.
Each spilled coffee stain on the table has it’s own story. Every single one of them. For example, take that long skinny one over there – that’s when they decided to make it look ‘authentic’ and just chucked coffee at the table. That one there is a true coffee stain, happened when we laughed so hard the just coffee slipped out of our hands.
I thought this said slipped at first. I began to write about that at first, and now i am out of time to give you a full explanation. What’s a girl to do?
Your morning would never be right if you want a bowl of cereal and the only milk available gets spilled.