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stephan-knight
stephan-knight
American Thoughts.
One minute, one minute long As the seconds go by I try and be strong For I know you can see it But I won't admit That my hands are shaking and my heart beats fast That I can't stand here too long or my body turns to a plaster cast I guess it's too late because you already know That in the scope of things I don't like to show Anything about me to anyone like you Because we're so quick to judgments That we where them like a tattoo Exposed to the elements and wrapped in plastic Only being ripped off when we feel enthusiastic I refuse to let this control me I refuse to let it be the admission fee I enter with no remorse In order to finish this course To expand my mind and look beyond This sacred bond That we all hold with each other With no judgments for one another And as the air is thickening And clocks ticking I say thank you for listening to this vocal instrumental conditioning
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Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 4:38 PM UTC
One Minute
I play the game we wonder for. The one we can’t control. The only one we hunger for. The one we must console. Before you left the walls were dark. I’m trapped inside this space. Streets pass us by disappearing. Who’s to win this race.
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May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 4:09 PM UTC
The Game
Eyes dry, vision cloudy, waning. Slowly, most certainly always trying to be, trying to exist, becoming a part to fill in, to fill up, to overflow. Never. Cinematic sunsets and hot air, my face is a net for fantasies. For their idea of me, their idea of what he should be. Images we've seen are painted deep, ingrained in the folds, but those ideas were someone else's, someone else's distortion of what's in need. What's needed?
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Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 10:40 PM UTC
The Part
Now fluent, a young family facing the morning hurries into its open door. Neatly ordered she turns through, brushing the staircase, with a doll's version of her mother.
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Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 12:19 AM UTC
We Can Dance From Here
oh, how easily we fall tip-toeing toward the edge victims to our own habits changing adjusting living for speed trying for depth searching for more more more more more devices more de-vices vice for you for me broken under the weight falling like ashes carried by the wind wanting
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Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 12:03 AM UTC
More
Suggestively selecting songs serenading sweet-sixteeners. Saying soft somethings. Supporting satanic systems. Sweeping sonnets. Slang symphonies. Symposium suspended. Goodnight.
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 4:05 AM UTC
Symposium Suspended
Cellular creations constantly causing creative complexities. Carefree condolences controlling courageous creatures. Can't contribute crimes–consistently crumbling. Countries collapse. Cities combust. Cry out.
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Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC
Connection
We once shared nights that lasted forever. It was that time in which I realized who you were. You were the sheets that kept me warm at night. That's when I knew. You were the light within the dark. That's when it was real. You are for me, what I wasn't for myself. That's when it became fear. I told you things had changed. It was heartless and cold. Now you wonder why. And I, what if .
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Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 11:56 PM UTC
Undo Sensitivity
Her body was exposed. I traced every curve with the tips of my fingers. All over until I reached her face, A new face, pure and bright. A face I'd never seen. Twisted and tangled in the sheets, She sang with a soft and gentle voice. Like a boat slowly rocking in the water, Knocking against an old wooden dock. The wood splintered and rotted, And then I was back. Where had my mind gone. It went to the beginning, To the last place I ever saw her, To the last place she was even seen.
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Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 2:40 PM UTC
Scattered Pieces on Mt. Eyre
It is here, I can feel it. She gives nothing but takes all. A presence so fine It cannot fully be explained. Through the trials and the hardships She reveals herself fully. Hardly seen But fully understood, She sings. A radiance of an everlasting existence It can be heard all around, She is alive. He follows such a beautiful sound, But does not know, She is watching, She is there. Trying to find her He searches within, Within the confinement among, He sees her. It is here He can feel it, She speaks with a gentle touch, He is awake.
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Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 12:21 AM UTC
It Is Here