I have tile floors. I hate them. They are sticky when you spill things on them. I prefer carpet. I do like tiles in pools though (even if the paterns are ugly)…BLAH! I dunno what to write about now lalalalalalal.
Erica
Flooring. Laminate. Kitchen. The tiles in the kitchen came up after a while. It was dirty underneath. Glue that had been there for years. Walls can be tiled too. Mostly bathroom walls. Complicated task. Not an ideal DIY project.
Key
My eyes circled the bathroom with what awaited me in what could potentially be our future home. The tiles, grimy from years of neglect, were pale blue and stared back at me with an eye of disgust.
Nicholas Borner
The bathroom had ceramic tiles. The good kind. the kind that makes you feel like you are in an old-fashioned cafe. Glazed, ceramic, light blue. There was a cold feeling to it that made me feel all light inside.
Kelli Stiver
The tiled floors of their expensive new bathroom gleamed, except for what appeared to be a red wine stain in the bathmat preceding the shower. “Oh, that,” she dismissed with a chuckle. “Let’s just say we didn’t pay in CASH.”
asdf
The bathroom with the tiled floor had a liquid on it. I couldn’t quite tell what it was but it was bubbly; and green. The liquid had a strange odor to it. I hated it.
Isaac Rohr
i remember once we got out kitchen retiled. it didn’t do much it was in the old apartment. i remember the walls we used to mountain climb up god we were young so many memories i wish being young with no worries
elena
The crimson red blood oozed out of her wrist, covering the tiled floor of the filthy bathroom. No one except the midnight shift cashier of the convenience store even knew she was there. How long would it take before they found her?
elfgirl
tiled, we tiled our bathroom the other day. it now has this really weird, rough tile on the floor instead of the smooth tiled that used to be there. it was kinda nice to have smooth tile, but atleast now i’m not sliding all over the place when i get out of the shower. which is pretty cool. and this is a prettier color
Megan
tiles floring is very hard to clean. grit gets down in the cocking and i make my back ache trying to make my bathroom as clean as when i moved into this damn house.
will the next tenants even care? maybe they’ll just think the floors were yellow and grey to begin with.
did they ever look clean? am i losing my mind with every strip of plastic ribbon fraying on the bristles of my former toothbrush?
oh god i still have the shower to go.
should i even bother with the kitchen?
i hung those awful pictures of landfills over my sink to remind me to recycle, but i simply stopped using the kitchen and i eat out everyday. gernerating more waste with every styrafome box filled with leftovers sitting in the back of my fridge that i haven’t taken a thing out of since the first month of these last three years.
how can i even think of the basement?
greta
many so many of them, lined up, looking to me from the ground.
Why why?
Why do I even ask…
Little minx battering your lashes at me.
I wonder
There they are, sitting on the tileds
mary
Tiled floors on the bathroom wall always become grimy after years of use. There’s no way to stop the dirt, really, because it doesn’t come from any discernible action. Just from time.
Wesley
Toynbee Idea / In Kubrick’s 2001 / Resurrect Dead on Planet Jupiter. The Tiles have spoken: paved over, but never forgotten.
saint louis
Tiled floor is really cool. I like the feel of it on my feet when it’s hot out. The floor in my kitchen and bathroom are both tiled and I really enjoy it. I often hurt myself on tiled floors because when I have socks on I slip and fall and land on my butt.
MJ
floor and white. i think bouncing balls and things being broken. i think people can get hurt when running or dancing on tiled floors. i think shiny and pretty tiled floors. also mosaics and different colors.
Lisette
tiled skin that runs along only the finest contours. Lips and eyes, square scales, weighing me down and pulling me back. Like a ocean, with water made of bricks, or a sky made of lime stone… it’s just not right, the planned, split smoothness where my fingers dare not go.
The Founder
She couldn’t wait until this stupid renovation was finished. It had only caused her grief and agony, and she was ready to finally relax. As she walked cautiously through the kitchen, careful not to step on any nails or wet glue, the men putting down the tiles only stared at her.
Tori
The floor was tiled in an unusual pattern and striking colors. You would have to hover about to see the complete picture… two entwined vines with jeweled fruit.
leh
The bathroom was tiled with porcelain pictures of roses, kittens and just about anything else you could imagine that wouldn’t look out of place in your grandmother’s apartment. He looked around him in astonishment, trying to link this homely, feminine… old looking establishment to the foxy blonde bombshell who had promised him a ‘real good time’ at the bar.
The sound of a door opened and he turned around. There she stood, her hair curled around her shoulders, a seductive smile on her lips. She was dressed in a fuzzy bathrobe with fluffy rabbits on it. He went flacid immediately.
dominique
Lay the rows. White and straight like small teeth, line them up. Care and work placed into this item which will only be stepped on. But one has to do what one does best.
Emma
santiago’s mess
brilliant anarchy
coral reef confreres
the aftertaste of fate
the byzantine firebush
calming storms of fury
dawns’ mosaic
in Mary’s drift
paschal
The floor was tiled, not a pretty color either. Just a pale green that strangely reminded me of toothpaste that has crusted onto a sink and won’t come off. There was a small scent of cigarette smoke in the air, and from the other room I could hear a woman cackling, probably because of years of smoking said cigarettes.
Quincy McDally
There was a tiled floor beneath her ivory feet. Sometimes, I could see the flat press of her toes against the grout and I wondered that she should stand on ground at all.
It seemed to me that she might lift off at any second and fly, soaring through the air as though she commanded the very elements. But I never asked, just glanced at her feet on the tiled floor.
Lester
the floor was an amazing shade of blue. it didnt even look like tile.. more like a magnificant sea.
kelsie
the tile is shiny, a lovely
little mother-of-pearl replica.
but along the sheen, in the grooves,
it is nothing but dark
with grime.
it befits you.
just like you, who’s skin may look
perfect but who’s internal organs
are dirty with smoke
and cancer.
rachel
They said it couldn’t be done. The ceiling. Wet. Far away. Needed to be tiled. But I’m a man. I wasn’t afraid. I used a stool.
I am a man. The ceiling….was tiled.
jim
I had a project. I had no idea. My wife said I shuld know, but I didn’t. And I felt small, tiny..emasculated.
And all I needed to do was tile the bathroom. The bathroom needed to be tiled. Why did I feel like I couldn’t be a man.
I ended up hiring somebody to do it. That was it.
jim
The bathroom was tiled and the floor was wet. No wonder I slipped and fell, hitting my head on the side of the bath tub. The red blood dripping on the green tiled floor had an artsy look to it.
don
somewhere in the back of my mind, I expect to live in a place that is mostly tiled. Not large, italian type….more like the small, spanish-influenced colorful tiles that make up mosaics and reflect a lot of light.
irish_eyes
As I lay on my bathroom floor, my thoughts flickered to Cindy. I wondered if she would miss me, if she would cry at my funeral. As the blood pooled on the tiled floor, I really hoped she would.
Craig
completely and competently conceal the cracks. That is the objective here. It is not a facade, more of a disguise. My own shield to protect me from judgmental peers.
Tyler Scott
Floors are cold. I prefer wood. It looks pretty. Tiles come in all sortd of designs. They have cheap tiles and expensive tiles. My dad has tiles in his house. Linoleum. I like brick tiles in the yard.
Sara
my aunt told me a story today about how they had a leak in their dishwasher at their apartment, which is in athens. there wasn’t any damage though, because the floors were tiled. i miss greece. even the tiled floors.
danaë
The blood creeps along the tiled floor. I look down at it and it looks strange, as if it isn’t connected to me, as if it isn’t mind. I imagine it crawling along the cracks, slowly becoming cold, losing the heat of life it had in my veins. What
Andrew
floor, bathroom, textured, colors, pain to clean, scrabble, lots
kitchensjjd
bekk
the cracks are stubborn. somehow, the tiles won’t fit together.
si
there was a tiled floor just outside of my bedroom door. it was where it happened. that kitchen has known so much more, but never as much as it did then. the things she said were unforgetable, unforgivable… whatever you want to call immaturity.
marc
I tiled my floor today. All I could think about was you. How you left me here. How now I have to tile the floor by myself. How everything is just off balance. I miss you. I need you, but you’ve moved on and now I need to also.
Kaylyn Hampshire
this reminds me of the bathroom floor. The bathroom floor at my grandmas house was tiled in light blue, blue, and brown and it always smelled like irish spring soap. I remember staring at it till my eyes went screwy and blurred the lines between them. That and my grandma telling me i had to wash behind my ears to avoid growing potatoes back there.
craig
the tiled roof glinted in the afternoon sunshine. as the water dripped down off of the ends of the red clay tiled, it made a soft splashing sound on the cool shadowed cement below.
I have tile floors. I hate them. They are sticky when you spill things on them. I prefer carpet. I do like tiles in pools though (even if the paterns are ugly)…BLAH! I dunno what to write about now lalalalalalal.
Flooring. Laminate. Kitchen. The tiles in the kitchen came up after a while. It was dirty underneath. Glue that had been there for years. Walls can be tiled too. Mostly bathroom walls. Complicated task. Not an ideal DIY project.
My eyes circled the bathroom with what awaited me in what could potentially be our future home. The tiles, grimy from years of neglect, were pale blue and stared back at me with an eye of disgust.
The bathroom had ceramic tiles. The good kind. the kind that makes you feel like you are in an old-fashioned cafe. Glazed, ceramic, light blue. There was a cold feeling to it that made me feel all light inside.
The tiled floors of their expensive new bathroom gleamed, except for what appeared to be a red wine stain in the bathmat preceding the shower. “Oh, that,” she dismissed with a chuckle. “Let’s just say we didn’t pay in CASH.”
The bathroom with the tiled floor had a liquid on it. I couldn’t quite tell what it was but it was bubbly; and green. The liquid had a strange odor to it. I hated it.
i remember once we got out kitchen retiled. it didn’t do much it was in the old apartment. i remember the walls we used to mountain climb up god we were young so many memories i wish being young with no worries
The crimson red blood oozed out of her wrist, covering the tiled floor of the filthy bathroom. No one except the midnight shift cashier of the convenience store even knew she was there. How long would it take before they found her?
tiled, we tiled our bathroom the other day. it now has this really weird, rough tile on the floor instead of the smooth tiled that used to be there. it was kinda nice to have smooth tile, but atleast now i’m not sliding all over the place when i get out of the shower. which is pretty cool. and this is a prettier color
tiles floring is very hard to clean. grit gets down in the cocking and i make my back ache trying to make my bathroom as clean as when i moved into this damn house.
will the next tenants even care? maybe they’ll just think the floors were yellow and grey to begin with.
did they ever look clean? am i losing my mind with every strip of plastic ribbon fraying on the bristles of my former toothbrush?
oh god i still have the shower to go.
should i even bother with the kitchen?
i hung those awful pictures of landfills over my sink to remind me to recycle, but i simply stopped using the kitchen and i eat out everyday. gernerating more waste with every styrafome box filled with leftovers sitting in the back of my fridge that i haven’t taken a thing out of since the first month of these last three years.
how can i even think of the basement?
many so many of them, lined up, looking to me from the ground.
Why why?
Why do I even ask…
Little minx battering your lashes at me.
I wonder
There they are, sitting on the tileds
Tiled floors on the bathroom wall always become grimy after years of use. There’s no way to stop the dirt, really, because it doesn’t come from any discernible action. Just from time.
Toynbee Idea / In Kubrick’s 2001 / Resurrect Dead on Planet Jupiter. The Tiles have spoken: paved over, but never forgotten.
Tiled floor is really cool. I like the feel of it on my feet when it’s hot out. The floor in my kitchen and bathroom are both tiled and I really enjoy it. I often hurt myself on tiled floors because when I have socks on I slip and fall and land on my butt.
floor and white. i think bouncing balls and things being broken. i think people can get hurt when running or dancing on tiled floors. i think shiny and pretty tiled floors. also mosaics and different colors.
tiled skin that runs along only the finest contours. Lips and eyes, square scales, weighing me down and pulling me back. Like a ocean, with water made of bricks, or a sky made of lime stone… it’s just not right, the planned, split smoothness where my fingers dare not go.
She couldn’t wait until this stupid renovation was finished. It had only caused her grief and agony, and she was ready to finally relax. As she walked cautiously through the kitchen, careful not to step on any nails or wet glue, the men putting down the tiles only stared at her.
The floor was tiled in an unusual pattern and striking colors. You would have to hover about to see the complete picture… two entwined vines with jeweled fruit.
The bathroom was tiled with porcelain pictures of roses, kittens and just about anything else you could imagine that wouldn’t look out of place in your grandmother’s apartment. He looked around him in astonishment, trying to link this homely, feminine… old looking establishment to the foxy blonde bombshell who had promised him a ‘real good time’ at the bar.
The sound of a door opened and he turned around. There she stood, her hair curled around her shoulders, a seductive smile on her lips. She was dressed in a fuzzy bathrobe with fluffy rabbits on it. He went flacid immediately.
Lay the rows. White and straight like small teeth, line them up. Care and work placed into this item which will only be stepped on. But one has to do what one does best.
santiago’s mess
brilliant anarchy
coral reef confreres
the aftertaste of fate
the byzantine firebush
calming storms of fury
dawns’ mosaic
in Mary’s drift
The floor was tiled, not a pretty color either. Just a pale green that strangely reminded me of toothpaste that has crusted onto a sink and won’t come off. There was a small scent of cigarette smoke in the air, and from the other room I could hear a woman cackling, probably because of years of smoking said cigarettes.
There was a tiled floor beneath her ivory feet. Sometimes, I could see the flat press of her toes against the grout and I wondered that she should stand on ground at all.
It seemed to me that she might lift off at any second and fly, soaring through the air as though she commanded the very elements. But I never asked, just glanced at her feet on the tiled floor.
the floor was an amazing shade of blue. it didnt even look like tile.. more like a magnificant sea.
the tile is shiny, a lovely
little mother-of-pearl replica.
but along the sheen, in the grooves,
it is nothing but dark
with grime.
it befits you.
just like you, who’s skin may look
perfect but who’s internal organs
are dirty with smoke
and cancer.
They said it couldn’t be done. The ceiling. Wet. Far away. Needed to be tiled. But I’m a man. I wasn’t afraid. I used a stool.
I am a man. The ceiling….was tiled.
I had a project. I had no idea. My wife said I shuld know, but I didn’t. And I felt small, tiny..emasculated.
And all I needed to do was tile the bathroom. The bathroom needed to be tiled. Why did I feel like I couldn’t be a man.
I ended up hiring somebody to do it. That was it.
The bathroom was tiled and the floor was wet. No wonder I slipped and fell, hitting my head on the side of the bath tub. The red blood dripping on the green tiled floor had an artsy look to it.
somewhere in the back of my mind, I expect to live in a place that is mostly tiled. Not large, italian type….more like the small, spanish-influenced colorful tiles that make up mosaics and reflect a lot of light.
As I lay on my bathroom floor, my thoughts flickered to Cindy. I wondered if she would miss me, if she would cry at my funeral. As the blood pooled on the tiled floor, I really hoped she would.
completely and competently conceal the cracks. That is the objective here. It is not a facade, more of a disguise. My own shield to protect me from judgmental peers.
Floors are cold. I prefer wood. It looks pretty. Tiles come in all sortd of designs. They have cheap tiles and expensive tiles. My dad has tiles in his house. Linoleum. I like brick tiles in the yard.
my aunt told me a story today about how they had a leak in their dishwasher at their apartment, which is in athens. there wasn’t any damage though, because the floors were tiled. i miss greece. even the tiled floors.
The blood creeps along the tiled floor. I look down at it and it looks strange, as if it isn’t connected to me, as if it isn’t mind. I imagine it crawling along the cracks, slowly becoming cold, losing the heat of life it had in my veins. What
floor, bathroom, textured, colors, pain to clean, scrabble, lots
kitchensjjd
the cracks are stubborn. somehow, the tiles won’t fit together.
there was a tiled floor just outside of my bedroom door. it was where it happened. that kitchen has known so much more, but never as much as it did then. the things she said were unforgetable, unforgivable… whatever you want to call immaturity.
I tiled my floor today. All I could think about was you. How you left me here. How now I have to tile the floor by myself. How everything is just off balance. I miss you. I need you, but you’ve moved on and now I need to also.
this reminds me of the bathroom floor. The bathroom floor at my grandmas house was tiled in light blue, blue, and brown and it always smelled like irish spring soap. I remember staring at it till my eyes went screwy and blurred the lines between them. That and my grandma telling me i had to wash behind my ears to avoid growing potatoes back there.
the tiled roof glinted in the afternoon sunshine. as the water dripped down off of the ends of the red clay tiled, it made a soft splashing sound on the cool shadowed cement below.