stacks and stacks of books that smell like paper paste and dust. I walk through them looking for him. I catch the glimpse of a shoulder, a cowlick peeking over a coat lapel. Hello, I say. He reaches for me and i taste him, salty and juicy in equal measure.
Surrenderpity
Stacks of books piled on the floor. That’s what I think about. Also big tall bookshelves leaning over me, threatening to fall. Stacks of papers in an office. LOTS of work to do. They all hold information about things.
Anna
you can only feel human through so much.
after that, it’s only reflex,
his hands felt sticky, raw, abused. each body he dragged into the ditch was another victory for somebody else – another number to add, another name to erase.
there were hundreds of them, layers of non-life, everywhere.
The room was filled with stacks of books. Papers littered the floor. It looked like the place had been ransacked. But by whom? What were they looking for? In a library of all places?
Claire
stack of hay and stacks of books. Stacks of cookies and stacks of nooks. Stacks are a very wonderful way to organize all of your things. yo put a stack of just one thing here a stack of another there. What a great thing to do; stack.
Hizzyshmizzle
When you have a stack of papers, and you’re looking for one in particular, for some reason it’s always at the bottom of the stack. Maybe it’s like that with soul mates. You have to look past all the wrong ones first to get to the right one.
Sophie
the old man walked into the library to rest his eyes upon the stacks he had been anxiously waiting to rest his shaky, gnarled fingers on.
susan looked up from her desk, eyebrows raised. her pink sweater was extra tight, today.
make me
Stacked up in the crevaces in my mind are the thoughts of the stacks of emotions i with hold but are blocked by the stacks of fear that are stacked up beneath my subconsious i cant stand.
Frank
Stacks, and stacks of books surround me. They go from the unseeable floor, which simply must exist, all the way to the unenvisionable sky. Stacks and stacks of books, rows and rows of stairs.
Kat
The must scent fills my nostrils, clogging it with the sweet aroma of decay. Pages spill everywhere, words and memories burst from the life of trees, begging, aching, screaming to be read.
Love me. Learn me. Figure out who I am.
Stacks upon stacks of these carefully caressed novels and self-destructive biographies clutter the floor, closing in on my every thought, my very heart, and the core of my soul.
Stacks of paper piled on Rodrey’s desk.
“What am I going to do!” he cries.
“Calm down babe, it’s not that bad.”
“Shut up Sydney, you don’t know what you’re talking about, this will take me days!”
“Sure, sure, just don’t talk to me like that and get back to work.” Sydney gets up and walks to the kitchen as Rodney stares at the stack, the very intimidating stack of homework.
Brittney
Buried the stacks in the library is a book that lies forgotten. It is too boring to read, nobody has checked it out in decades. The title is “Functional Particle Physics for the Average Housewife” and the author seems to have missed his target audience.
The piles of books were all around the room. Innumerable stacks. Shannon’s first impression was one of disorder and mess. What a safety hazzard But then she began to appriciate the mind that could hold all the knowladge inside every one of these books. She reached over to one on the shelf and pulled it out.
The last thing she saw was a stack, tumbeling down.
Fishy
boxes books and piles of foods fill up a room with lots of things I enjoy money is something i want to stack up until its taller than i am i want it tall wide filled not hollow like a stacked box or a stacked worthless pile of other things.
Rashawnda
the stacks of paper block the view of the ocean, but all is left to see is the sun setting letting the tourist know there conventional day is done. Why not stay on the beach all night? being tired is a weakness and a choice.
patrick fouch
Stacks of money? Stacks of laundry? Stacks of bills? Stacks of wood? I’m boggled by this word. The world is stacked against me. Playing games with the kids. Stacking the cards. Tacking on a few extra words.
LadyBirdAtHome
everywhere i look… stacks of books, we love to read, what can i say… four people in one family who all love to read, you are going to have stacks of books everywhere!!!! shelves full, tables full, some on the couch, some in a chair! stacks of books everywhere!!!! c;
Michaels
why is the word of the day still stacks? how many stacks upon stacks of papers on stacks do these people want?
stacks of pancakes!
stacks of waffles!
stacks of bills!
stacks of debt!
stacks of blocks my nephew knocked over!
stacks of phone books!
smoke stacks!
city stacks!
library stacks!
so many stacks!
enough already! no! more! STACKS!!!!!!
Keep it safe in the stacks of books on your life. Your secret is hidden between pages and even the most scholarly will not find it. You don’t want anyone to know. You won’t let anyone find out.
Stacks. Stacks of books, those would be nice. There aren’t many things that you want full stacks off… it might be too much. But I would like more stacks of books. If I only had a fireplace (someday) I would love stacks of wood. I would like to chop it and stack it myself.
Stacks.. Multiple objects played on top of each other. such as books, papers, shoes, clothes.. possibly people. Sometimes they go in order from least to greatest. tallest or shortest. big to small. When teachers grade papers, they have there student’s stack there papers on each other’s paper. when they put clothes in there drawers they put each piece of clothing on top of each other.
I went into the old abandoned house and there were stacks and stacks of old books and newspapers. I was in my glory. I sat down, and began looking through the books right away.
Mary Lou Wynegar
Stacks of books. Everywhere. I was lost. Not tall enough to see over the literacy piles. lost in a sea of knowledge. Pages and pages. Paper cuts… I hadn’t thought of that. This may be a very painful adventure.
stacks and stacks of books that smell like paper paste and dust. I walk through them looking for him. I catch the glimpse of a shoulder, a cowlick peeking over a coat lapel. Hello, I say. He reaches for me and i taste him, salty and juicy in equal measure.
Stacks of books piled on the floor. That’s what I think about. Also big tall bookshelves leaning over me, threatening to fall. Stacks of papers in an office. LOTS of work to do. They all hold information about things.
you can only feel human through so much.
after that, it’s only reflex,
his hands felt sticky, raw, abused. each body he dragged into the ditch was another victory for somebody else – another number to add, another name to erase.
there were hundreds of them, layers of non-life, everywhere.
The room was filled with stacks of books. Papers littered the floor. It looked like the place had been ransacked. But by whom? What were they looking for? In a library of all places?
stack of hay and stacks of books. Stacks of cookies and stacks of nooks. Stacks are a very wonderful way to organize all of your things. yo put a stack of just one thing here a stack of another there. What a great thing to do; stack.
When you have a stack of papers, and you’re looking for one in particular, for some reason it’s always at the bottom of the stack. Maybe it’s like that with soul mates. You have to look past all the wrong ones first to get to the right one.
the old man walked into the library to rest his eyes upon the stacks he had been anxiously waiting to rest his shaky, gnarled fingers on.
susan looked up from her desk, eyebrows raised. her pink sweater was extra tight, today.
Stacked up in the crevaces in my mind are the thoughts of the stacks of emotions i with hold but are blocked by the stacks of fear that are stacked up beneath my subconsious i cant stand.
Stacks, and stacks of books surround me. They go from the unseeable floor, which simply must exist, all the way to the unenvisionable sky. Stacks and stacks of books, rows and rows of stairs.
The must scent fills my nostrils, clogging it with the sweet aroma of decay. Pages spill everywhere, words and memories burst from the life of trees, begging, aching, screaming to be read.
Love me. Learn me. Figure out who I am.
Stacks upon stacks of these carefully caressed novels and self-destructive biographies clutter the floor, closing in on my every thought, my very heart, and the core of my soul.
It feels like home.
Stacks of paper piled on Rodrey’s desk.
“What am I going to do!” he cries.
“Calm down babe, it’s not that bad.”
“Shut up Sydney, you don’t know what you’re talking about, this will take me days!”
“Sure, sure, just don’t talk to me like that and get back to work.” Sydney gets up and walks to the kitchen as Rodney stares at the stack, the very intimidating stack of homework.
Buried the stacks in the library is a book that lies forgotten. It is too boring to read, nobody has checked it out in decades. The title is “Functional Particle Physics for the Average Housewife” and the author seems to have missed his target audience.
The piles of books were all around the room. Innumerable stacks. Shannon’s first impression was one of disorder and mess. What a safety hazzard But then she began to appriciate the mind that could hold all the knowladge inside every one of these books. She reached over to one on the shelf and pulled it out.
The last thing she saw was a stack, tumbeling down.
boxes books and piles of foods fill up a room with lots of things I enjoy money is something i want to stack up until its taller than i am i want it tall wide filled not hollow like a stacked box or a stacked worthless pile of other things.
the stacks of paper block the view of the ocean, but all is left to see is the sun setting letting the tourist know there conventional day is done. Why not stay on the beach all night? being tired is a weakness and a choice.
Stacks of money? Stacks of laundry? Stacks of bills? Stacks of wood? I’m boggled by this word. The world is stacked against me. Playing games with the kids. Stacking the cards. Tacking on a few extra words.
everywhere i look… stacks of books, we love to read, what can i say… four people in one family who all love to read, you are going to have stacks of books everywhere!!!! shelves full, tables full, some on the couch, some in a chair! stacks of books everywhere!!!! c;
why is the word of the day still stacks? how many stacks upon stacks of papers on stacks do these people want?
stacks of pancakes!
stacks of waffles!
stacks of bills!
stacks of debt!
stacks of blocks my nephew knocked over!
stacks of phone books!
smoke stacks!
city stacks!
library stacks!
so many stacks!
enough already! no! more! STACKS!!!!!!
Keep it safe in the stacks of books on your life. Your secret is hidden between pages and even the most scholarly will not find it. You don’t want anyone to know. You won’t let anyone find out.
Stacks. Stacks of books, those would be nice. There aren’t many things that you want full stacks off… it might be too much. But I would like more stacks of books. If I only had a fireplace (someday) I would love stacks of wood. I would like to chop it and stack it myself.
Stacks.. Multiple objects played on top of each other. such as books, papers, shoes, clothes.. possibly people. Sometimes they go in order from least to greatest. tallest or shortest. big to small. When teachers grade papers, they have there student’s stack there papers on each other’s paper. when they put clothes in there drawers they put each piece of clothing on top of each other.
I went into the old abandoned house and there were stacks and stacks of old books and newspapers. I was in my glory. I sat down, and began looking through the books right away.
Stacks of books. Everywhere. I was lost. Not tall enough to see over the literacy piles. lost in a sea of knowledge. Pages and pages. Paper cuts… I hadn’t thought of that. This may be a very painful adventure.