Normally four walls make up a room…well regular square or rectangle rooms like the one I’m in now. Sometimes I just want to break down the walls of this place and communicate with the outside. But they said it was bad, that it wouldn’t help. Not that I listen anyway, I do my own thing. That’s why I’m here. In the asylum.
Georgina Williams
Choosing the rusty chair said more about her than she could have shared. More than she knew. Her dainty toes contacting the naked floorboards with knees swishing to rock and spin her smoothly in a heart-like rhythm, the chair still slick in movement despite its neglect. She seemed at home in this room. It felt unloved. The piles of junk in two of its corners crouched in the shadows. Books, chewing-gum-grey soft toys and a skateboard missing a splintered chunk from its deck were balanced nervously on broken furniture and blankets. The other corner was stacked with brown cardboard boxes of multiple sizes and the walls harboured several long cracks where the plaster had given under the stresses of the house settling into the mud.
The walls were closing in. Maria looked around for a door as the ceiling got so low she could barely stand. Then she saw it. It was a trapdoor. Tiny, but she could squeeze through.
The walls told the sad story. Chipped and peeling paint, mildew stains around the windows and the tell tale signs of a cockroach infestation spoke of hopelessness and despair. The torn curtains hung limp in the humid heat and the emaciated child slept fitfully on a blanket in the corner.
Katherine
They were closing in on her. Slowly at first, but they clashed together. First the parts away from her, then it grew closer and closer. Her heart must have skipped a beat or two, then every thing melted away. Everything was gone.
Fred
The walls are thin in my house. I hear everything that happens in the next room. Sometimes I press my ears against them, hoping to hear the sounds coming through them… And sometimes I wonder how much these walls have seen.
I’ve put them up brick by brick, in neat and sloppy rows. Laid in leisure, laid in pain, elevated by years of hurry and thinking I’m less than, wondering if I’m so different that I’m not worthy of love.
You pull them down with your honesty, your tenacity, your bravery, your willingness to see and know me as I am. You pull them down when you stay.
Danielle
the walls were covered in years of newspaper clippings, old pages torn out from books, with the best bits underlined. the rest of the room was as equally cluttered, with books and books, piled some 4 feet high. the walls must have once been a soft grey in color, but the paint had long since begun to peel where it wasn’t covered in paper
Allison
I have walls inside me that protect me from others and myself. Tearing them down is a good idea because though there is risk involved. Then I make myself available to others.
Sheila
Is just a plain wall where you can probably color it in different colors and maybe even write a quote about you what it means to you. Wall is the one that sees you and hears, but yet can’t speak. Wall is the one the sees how often you cry every night because you feel there’s no one that understands how you feel.
Alondra
walls? they build up around you or do you build them? Ae the blocking you from the outside world or are you hiding yourself? What walls have you built and what walls have you knocked down? Which has made you felt better, prouder, happier? Take a risk. Knock down some more walls!
Isabel Pinaud
walls are always in the way and i always happen to run into them or not even notice that they’re there. walls are usually different colors some are white but my room is purple. walls are horrible yet wonderful things all at the same time. they’re wonderful because they make you feel safe and secure yet horrible because… they’re always in the way. i love walls. but sometimes i feel enclosed and i want to escape but i can’t. damn walls. how could you?
cilla prato
the walls were covered with blood. i stood there, emotionless. this was my home, this was my sactuarty. she was dead, leaning against the wall with an apparent bullet wound in her head. i walked past the grisley site and could not understand what had happned to warrent this type of beha
bri
Backa had a choice to make; So far, every path she chose ended in failure like a brick wall. There were only two left, one ahead and one behind. Polar opposites. Which would lead her to the life she was born to live? Forward into the future, or past?
Sean Duffy
walls keep you in or keep others out. They hold up the roof and hold photos and artwork for us to see and enjoy. Walls keep rooms separate which is great if you need to go to the bathroom. Walls love to be different colors and want to be enjoyed.
Sherry
There wasn’t any time to dismantle the wall brick by brick. We had to abolish it all at once. For my mother had little time left and we needed to find a way to settle our affairs. Oh death that come so soon after wounds have finally healed.
the walls of the the home we just moved in did not look right. It is something we never noticed while deciding to buy this place even after multiple visits
pat
the walls are tall, and i am small and you are what i have not seen before
audrey
Hello? I am trying to tell you something. Can you hear me behind your dark, black, walls of disdain and hostility? I want to get a sledge hammer and knock down your walls and save you from yourself.
The walls were closing in on her. At first the room had seemed sweet, its pastel decorations and green and white walls sweet and unimposing. Over time they had begun to grow smaller, until she wanted nothing more than to leave.
Joy
I walked through the empty house one last time
the night before we left town.
The WALLS were for the most part quiet, but as I stood
quietly in the forgotten room down in the basement,
I could have sworn that I heard crying.
I closed my eyes and let the filmstrip of memories
run quickly through my thoughts.
Both happy and sad.
Funny and serious.
The air was dank, the spider webs drooped,
My presence known by no one or no thing.
In time, I knew I must go, and when I turned,
I saw my reflection in the cracked mirror.
I looked closer until I was sure.
How silly of me,
WALLS do not cry.
People do
“When you’re chest got really tight when she said what she had to say, what she had seen and done. You couldn’t really breath, could you? That’s a shame that that happened to you young man, you seemed to know so much yet the walls in your mind sort of collapsed didn’t they.” And he lit up a cigarette.
Courtney
Walls are our protection from the weather and the sight of others. They are also used to keep people in as well as out. The often suround possesions and and are used as political barriers.
Andy Delahunty
The walls are too high. Can we really climb them?
Not if you don’t believe you can’t.
You think you’re going to fail, and you probably will.
So believe you can do it.
i wish i had the capacity to live without walls
barriers
i string them up right in front of people
and they put their palms on the glass and mouth words like “please?” and “why?”
and i just stare and stare until they walk away
I wonder what i’d do if they tried to push
if they stayed
or if they came back with an axe to break all my filthy walls down
The walls of the chapel felt like they were closing in on Marisol as she stood in the entryway staring down the long aisle towards the alter. It was before ithis alter that her fate awaited her. It was not a happy moment, how could it be, but it was the beginning of her indipendance from the harsh strictures that had been imposed upon her life while living at St Agnes’ School for Girls. Moving forwards she let herself come to a stop a mere two feet away from the coffin that held her now late grandfather. The man looked as harsh and somber in death as he always had in life. the only difference was that now his chest no longer moved with breath. It was his passing that now freed her, just as his living had choked the life out of her. She had to hold back the triumphant laugh that wanted to escape her, it would not do for the few guests to hear it.
Zarra
The wallpaper is peeling
off the maple walls. It is sticking
to my fingertips and I am helping
to tear down this ugly thing
that has plagued my childhood,
plagued my adulthood,
plagued my existence.
It seems like walls are always surrounding me that I have to climb. Walls represent my insecurities and my anxieties. They are constantly rising and building if I let them. But, all it takes is my mind to knock them down. No walls can stand in my way.
foxforce
Walls are put up for the reasons such as pain and suffering. Afraid to fall in love with the wrong person. Walls are protecting us from being hurt. Walls are decorated
all these walls i have to find away around. And if i cant find i way around im tearing the muthafucka down, or goin through it. its time to get it.. now where do i start? where the wall is?
If they could talk what a story! All four of them, or is it five. What of the roof. Who let the walls out? roof, roof, roof, roof! Let be grateful that won’t get past these four walls. Oh my.
Maryanne
white walls. walls holding the ceiling to the floor. knock them down. they can’t really protect you.
Bella
They hold the inside in. The pressure building within the walls, pushes outward on the artificial cube. The space wants to be curved, see the sky above it, and breath in the unfiltered air. The world is out there beyond the plaster. The inside won’t be stuck in here for long.
I went to school with a kid named Steve Walls. He had glasses, but he was one of of the popular kids, the funny one who could remember movie lines and could draw cartoons.
Hard cold colourless traps your stuck inside the walls were all another brick in the wall
Sarah
Walls are all around us. We put up walls to protect ourselves. Virtually changing walls would be awesome in a classroom. Color on walls changes your mood!
Susan
The walls were thin, the noises breaking through them. It was almost eerie, the way I could hear everything so clearly. Almost like I were in the room with them. It wasn’t exactly a happy place to begin with, though. Often through the nights, I would hear screams pierce the air. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure if it were theirs, or mine. I was going crazy here. I didn’t want to be here. But I had no choice, did I? No. I didn’t. It was the law. It would be years before I had the option to leave. And I might die before then. I could be here for the rest of my life.
Nikki
pero había un muro, y cómo todos los muros era un muro, y es que 60 segundos no son suficientes coño, que me vais a volver loca!!!
sweat
She kept them white, even though she felt so dark inside. She wanted them strong, impenetrable and that’s how she built them. They stood the test of time. Kept the pain at bay. The hurt, the fear. The love.
Normally four walls make up a room…well regular square or rectangle rooms like the one I’m in now. Sometimes I just want to break down the walls of this place and communicate with the outside. But they said it was bad, that it wouldn’t help. Not that I listen anyway, I do my own thing. That’s why I’m here. In the asylum.
Choosing the rusty chair said more about her than she could have shared. More than she knew. Her dainty toes contacting the naked floorboards with knees swishing to rock and spin her smoothly in a heart-like rhythm, the chair still slick in movement despite its neglect. She seemed at home in this room. It felt unloved. The piles of junk in two of its corners crouched in the shadows. Books, chewing-gum-grey soft toys and a skateboard missing a splintered chunk from its deck were balanced nervously on broken furniture and blankets. The other corner was stacked with brown cardboard boxes of multiple sizes and the walls harboured several long cracks where the plaster had given under the stresses of the house settling into the mud.
The walls were closing in. Maria looked around for a door as the ceiling got so low she could barely stand. Then she saw it. It was a trapdoor. Tiny, but she could squeeze through.
The walls told the sad story. Chipped and peeling paint, mildew stains around the windows and the tell tale signs of a cockroach infestation spoke of hopelessness and despair. The torn curtains hung limp in the humid heat and the emaciated child slept fitfully on a blanket in the corner.
They were closing in on her. Slowly at first, but they clashed together. First the parts away from her, then it grew closer and closer. Her heart must have skipped a beat or two, then every thing melted away. Everything was gone.
The walls are thin in my house. I hear everything that happens in the next room. Sometimes I press my ears against them, hoping to hear the sounds coming through them… And sometimes I wonder how much these walls have seen.
I’ve put them up brick by brick, in neat and sloppy rows. Laid in leisure, laid in pain, elevated by years of hurry and thinking I’m less than, wondering if I’m so different that I’m not worthy of love.
You pull them down with your honesty, your tenacity, your bravery, your willingness to see and know me as I am. You pull them down when you stay.
the walls were covered in years of newspaper clippings, old pages torn out from books, with the best bits underlined. the rest of the room was as equally cluttered, with books and books, piled some 4 feet high. the walls must have once been a soft grey in color, but the paint had long since begun to peel where it wasn’t covered in paper
I have walls inside me that protect me from others and myself. Tearing them down is a good idea because though there is risk involved. Then I make myself available to others.
Is just a plain wall where you can probably color it in different colors and maybe even write a quote about you what it means to you. Wall is the one that sees you and hears, but yet can’t speak. Wall is the one the sees how often you cry every night because you feel there’s no one that understands how you feel.
walls? they build up around you or do you build them? Ae the blocking you from the outside world or are you hiding yourself? What walls have you built and what walls have you knocked down? Which has made you felt better, prouder, happier? Take a risk. Knock down some more walls!
walls are always in the way and i always happen to run into them or not even notice that they’re there. walls are usually different colors some are white but my room is purple. walls are horrible yet wonderful things all at the same time. they’re wonderful because they make you feel safe and secure yet horrible because… they’re always in the way. i love walls. but sometimes i feel enclosed and i want to escape but i can’t. damn walls. how could you?
the walls were covered with blood. i stood there, emotionless. this was my home, this was my sactuarty. she was dead, leaning against the wall with an apparent bullet wound in her head. i walked past the grisley site and could not understand what had happned to warrent this type of beha
Backa had a choice to make; So far, every path she chose ended in failure like a brick wall. There were only two left, one ahead and one behind. Polar opposites. Which would lead her to the life she was born to live? Forward into the future, or past?
walls keep you in or keep others out. They hold up the roof and hold photos and artwork for us to see and enjoy. Walls keep rooms separate which is great if you need to go to the bathroom. Walls love to be different colors and want to be enjoyed.
There wasn’t any time to dismantle the wall brick by brick. We had to abolish it all at once. For my mother had little time left and we needed to find a way to settle our affairs. Oh death that come so soon after wounds have finally healed.
the walls of the the home we just moved in did not look right. It is something we never noticed while deciding to buy this place even after multiple visits
the walls are tall, and i am small and you are what i have not seen before
Hello? I am trying to tell you something. Can you hear me behind your dark, black, walls of disdain and hostility? I want to get a sledge hammer and knock down your walls and save you from yourself.
The walls were closing in on her. At first the room had seemed sweet, its pastel decorations and green and white walls sweet and unimposing. Over time they had begun to grow smaller, until she wanted nothing more than to leave.
I walked through the empty house one last time
the night before we left town.
The WALLS were for the most part quiet, but as I stood
quietly in the forgotten room down in the basement,
I could have sworn that I heard crying.
I closed my eyes and let the filmstrip of memories
run quickly through my thoughts.
Both happy and sad.
Funny and serious.
The air was dank, the spider webs drooped,
My presence known by no one or no thing.
In time, I knew I must go, and when I turned,
I saw my reflection in the cracked mirror.
I looked closer until I was sure.
How silly of me,
WALLS do not cry.
People do
“When you’re chest got really tight when she said what she had to say, what she had seen and done. You couldn’t really breath, could you? That’s a shame that that happened to you young man, you seemed to know so much yet the walls in your mind sort of collapsed didn’t they.” And he lit up a cigarette.
Walls are our protection from the weather and the sight of others. They are also used to keep people in as well as out. The often suround possesions and and are used as political barriers.
The walls are too high. Can we really climb them?
Not if you don’t believe you can’t.
You think you’re going to fail, and you probably will.
So believe you can do it.
i wish i had the capacity to live without walls
barriers
i string them up right in front of people
and they put their palms on the glass and mouth words like “please?” and “why?”
and i just stare and stare until they walk away
I wonder what i’d do if they tried to push
if they stayed
or if they came back with an axe to break all my filthy walls down
The walls of the chapel felt like they were closing in on Marisol as she stood in the entryway staring down the long aisle towards the alter. It was before ithis alter that her fate awaited her. It was not a happy moment, how could it be, but it was the beginning of her indipendance from the harsh strictures that had been imposed upon her life while living at St Agnes’ School for Girls. Moving forwards she let herself come to a stop a mere two feet away from the coffin that held her now late grandfather. The man looked as harsh and somber in death as he always had in life. the only difference was that now his chest no longer moved with breath. It was his passing that now freed her, just as his living had choked the life out of her. She had to hold back the triumphant laugh that wanted to escape her, it would not do for the few guests to hear it.
The wallpaper is peeling
off the maple walls. It is sticking
to my fingertips and I am helping
to tear down this ugly thing
that has plagued my childhood,
plagued my adulthood,
plagued my existence.
It seems like walls are always surrounding me that I have to climb. Walls represent my insecurities and my anxieties. They are constantly rising and building if I let them. But, all it takes is my mind to knock them down. No walls can stand in my way.
Walls are put up for the reasons such as pain and suffering. Afraid to fall in love with the wrong person. Walls are protecting us from being hurt. Walls are decorated
all these walls i have to find away around. And if i cant find i way around im tearing the muthafucka down, or goin through it. its time to get it.. now where do i start? where the wall is?
the walls were closing in on us. try as we might, there was no way we could run away in
If they could talk what a story! All four of them, or is it five. What of the roof. Who let the walls out? roof, roof, roof, roof! Let be grateful that won’t get past these four walls. Oh my.
white walls. walls holding the ceiling to the floor. knock them down. they can’t really protect you.
They hold the inside in. The pressure building within the walls, pushes outward on the artificial cube. The space wants to be curved, see the sky above it, and breath in the unfiltered air. The world is out there beyond the plaster. The inside won’t be stuck in here for long.
I went to school with a kid named Steve Walls. He had glasses, but he was one of of the popular kids, the funny one who could remember movie lines and could draw cartoons.
Hard cold colourless traps your stuck inside the walls were all another brick in the wall
Walls are all around us. We put up walls to protect ourselves. Virtually changing walls would be awesome in a classroom. Color on walls changes your mood!
The walls were thin, the noises breaking through them. It was almost eerie, the way I could hear everything so clearly. Almost like I were in the room with them. It wasn’t exactly a happy place to begin with, though. Often through the nights, I would hear screams pierce the air. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure if it were theirs, or mine. I was going crazy here. I didn’t want to be here. But I had no choice, did I? No. I didn’t. It was the law. It would be years before I had the option to leave. And I might die before then. I could be here for the rest of my life.
pero había un muro, y cómo todos los muros era un muro, y es que 60 segundos no son suficientes coño, que me vais a volver loca!!!
She kept them white, even though she felt so dark inside. She wanted them strong, impenetrable and that’s how she built them. They stood the test of time. Kept the pain at bay. The hurt, the fear. The love.