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22.3k · Oct 2012
The Elephant & The Mouse
August Oct 2012
This is a story I created for my 5 year old niece.

During the old times, things were not as they are now.  Dangerous monsters lurked around every corner doing the ***** deeds of the gods. The innocents had no protection. Only their own wits could keep them living another day.
Such was so for Elephant, he was one of the most intelligent of all the animals in the forest. He was large and grey, wizened with age. He had dark eyes, full of knowing. He had a strong face, with a large round nose. He was the guard of the forest, a scholar, and he could even read, unlike so many of his predecessors. He protected the innocent animals from the evil ones who meant them harm. The gods envied his intellect. They were afraid that it surpassed their own.  They wanted the innocents to be consumed by their minions, the dangerous monsters that lurked around the outside of the protection circle.
They devised a plan to destroy Elephant once and for all. They got their scariest, meanest, largest, most determined beast to do their bidding. The Mushika, some called him “The Mouse”. The Mushika had never been seen before, he had only been a whiff of a rumor found in children’s stories. He was said to be as large as the biggest trees, as mean as all of the god’s combined, and as powerful as the forest itself.
The god’s were able to convince the Mushika to do their bidding, by promising to make him even larger, meaner, and more powerful than he already was. He agreed and began his journey towards the innocents’ home where Elephant stood ready to protect and defend.
Elephant could feel it in the wind that something was coming. He read the leaves on the water to be sure. He knew that danger was almost on them and prepared for battle. He stood quietly, his eyes slowly moving from trunk to trunk. The wind blew slightly, ruffling his long ears. Then, THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. It seemed as if the whole forest quaked. Far away, trees began to fall to the left and to the right. Slowly, it got closer and closer. Until the Elephant could see a looming white beast with red eyes, a pink nose, round ears, a long pink tail, and a massive body.
He roared, “Elephant, I have a bone to pick with you!!” Elephant’s face was calm as he stepped forward. The Mouse lunged stepping on the Elephant’s trunk. Elephant howled in pain, jerking and tossing away from the Mushika’s massive foot. The Mushika persisted, realizing that he had made Elephant utterly defenseless. He opened his giant mouth, full of sharp teeth, about to swallow Elephant whole.
Elephant’s eyes filled with fear, then sharp determination. He mustered all of his strength together and made one final, gigantic tug. His round nose stretched and stretched and stretched, then popped out from underneath the mouse’s foot. He realized he was free, and wasn’t focused on how his nose had become elongated. He shoved with all of his might against the Mushika who was very startled sending him back against the trees. The Mushika had been knocked out.
Elephant called out to the innocents, “Family! We must flee now before this mouse wakes up. We must go where not even the God’s can find us!” All of the innocents came out of their huts.
One of the children, Giraffe, asked, “What happened to your nose?”
Elephant replied, “It has been stretched out, but do not worry. I am fine. We must go now!”
So all of the animals packed their things and went to a hiding place. Elephant realized he could grip things with his new nose. He picked up a giant rock and began to crack the ground away from the rest of the forest. It broke off and floated away, millions of galaxies away. They decided to call this place Earth. So that was how Earth became.
Later on, when the Mushika woke up, the gods were waiting for him. “You have failed your mission, therefore you must be punished,” they said in unison. The mouse quivered as they began chanting strange words. Slowly his size diminished to the size of an apple. He squeaked, no longer able to roar. The god’s laughed, snapping their fingers. The Mushika was suddenly on Earth, where his dreadful enemy was. The Mushika had been stripped of his mighty name and put into unfamiliar territory with no allies. Forever to be called Mouse, never to be able to defend himself again.
Elephant knew that Mouse had been punished for loosing their battle, yet he was still terrified that he would change back into that horrible beast. He feared Mouse the rest of his life, and told all of his family to fear him as well. This story explains why the elephant’s trunk is so long, why mice are so small, and why such a large animal as the elephant is scared of such a small animal as the mouse.
22.3k · May 2013
From the Bed to the Tides
August May 2013
I like a man with fire in his bones
And where his head should be,
There is a home.

And I wax and wane like the moon
If you turn away you might miss me,
I'll be gone soon.
© Amara Pendergraft

I'm gone with the morning.
10.3k · Nov 2012
The Underwater Bedroom
August Nov 2012
We live in an underwater bedroom
Just she & I alone all the time
But I don't mind
I don't miss the world and it sure as hell don't miss me
Knowing that I don't have to long for her company
Is all that I need
I can watch the water ripples play across her face while shes sleeping
Her chest rising and falling while deeply breathing
She helps me fall asleep
And we sit in our underwater bedroom keeping each other sane
I'm in love with the ways she says things as they light up her face
We don't know how we got here
But we are grateful that it was this place instead
It bothers her greatly, those thoughts always fill her head
She drifts away sometimes
And when she goes I cannot find her, like she's floated away
All I can do is sit in my chair and wait for her to come back
I'm so terrified
That my lovely underwater lady will drift away from me
And get lost in her mind that can encompass her like the sea
I know that I can take it
But I also know that one day soon
I'll loose her to the thoughts that keep her company
And when the day comes
I know that I will watch her vacant eyes as water so blue ripples on her face
And I'll sit in my underwater bedroom, made for two
With only one to really fill the space
I'll curl around her frame at night and feel the warmth of her skin
Never allowed to see her face light up so bright again
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
9.4k · Dec 2012
Cardiovascular Crochet
August Dec 2012
I used to wear my heart upon my sleeve
But then it frayed,
And now I'm left with a pile of string
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
August Apr 2013
Can we pretend for a bit,
                that every day is a bicycle waltz?

That every day is filled,
                filled with wine and whiskey love.

And skin feels like heaven,
               when no one is watching it touched.

That your body & my body,
               will never grow tired of the endlessness of each other's.

Everyday should be a bicycle waltz,
               With you my dear,
                                      *my immeasurable amount of intangible motion.
© Amara Pendergraft 2013

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DB9VfwyGCGg
5.1k · Nov 2012
Archery
August Nov 2012
Why meander around the subject?
All the roads lead to the same outcome
All the chit chat & the cut-up laughter
Isn't really necessary
When I know that in your eye
I'm just a desirable target
Aim
Fire
Miss
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
4.6k · Dec 2012
Adulthood
August Dec 2012
My lungs feel young
As I breathe in this
Lovely air
Even though I
Wish that it was
Candy coated with
Your cologne
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
2.9k · Oct 2012
Gray/Grey
August Oct 2012
I wish that I could eradicate my fears.
Crush them into dust in my hands.
Tilt my palm to the ground.
And let them be picked up by the wind
That spreads them out into tiny,
Tiny little things.
Unimportant and easily forgotten.
My ashes that lay in my head & my heart.
Made from a terrible fire inside.
That has burned down all the nerves.
Numbing me and isolating me from what I love.
If I could just tip my head to the side.
Shake them out of their hiding place.
And put them against my skin.
Then let them go away forever.
With tranquility overwhelming their place.
2.9k · Oct 2012
Wafers & Wine
August Oct 2012
The ripple effect of a rash decision.
Ignoring with a cold precision.
Glass cannot completely melt away.
Yet it never heats up the way they say.
A small crack in the upper lip.
An indentation, a simple dip.
If you don’t read the bible, Jesus will hate you.
But, Jesus, that is something I’ll never do.
The crack expands to a spider’s home.
A girl in a metal chair all alone.
Do you know what the gospel is, kid?
I don’t know if I do, but I wish that I did.
Splicing incision, multiple cracks.
Spiraling around in un-orderly stacks.
Mummy, I’m feeling ill.
Doesn’t matter, you are going still.
A piece falls to the floor with grace.
A trickle of water fills its place.
She throws her square hat into the air.
Whipping away the wafers and wine out of her hair.
The dam breaks away, the glass cascades in a sparkling haze.
Washing away the church daze.
Never. Again.
2.7k · Jan 2013
A Scone Heart
August Jan 2013
The bread crumbled in your fists
'But, I made that for you.'
Your grimace made me wince
You threw it on the ground
And you spit on it
You spit on the bread I had baked
For you
2 years ago
And you called me pathetic
Because I had baked you bread
And I cried, because,
You made me feel pathetic
Later that night,
You gave me a ring on the phone,
And you apologized
But what you didn't realize,
Was that I had already
Burned my hands
From placing them on the oven
In a sense
I couldn't feel my fingers,
I couldn't feel anything
All I knew was that I would not bake again
Not literal.

© Amara Pendergraft 2013
2.6k · Nov 2012
Das Jahr der Schafe
August Nov 2012
It's 1991
A towering time
Frank hearts
Meeting
Only having in
Common
The plastic cups
In their
Hands
Rapid eye
Movement Drawing
Them nearer
Almost touching
Not touching
At all
Conversation
Swirls around them
Trails slipping
In between
Quiet breaths
He tails behind
Her
This goddess
Blue haired
And starry eyed
He
Glassy eyed
Stairs
Bedroom door
An
Unfamiliar territory
Tumbling
Rustling of sheets
The tender
Touch
Of unfamiliar
Skin
Conceivability
Forgotten forever
Continuing journeys
In
Completely separate
Ways
2.5k · Oct 2012
Salty
August Oct 2012
3 inches of dust
Coat my nails
Been so long
Since I’ve
Caressed
The golden waves
Stiffened wrists
Cardiac arrest
From ocean eyes
Depths unknowing
Only paper to guide
A pale hand
Towards a wizened tree
That used to scream
Songs so lovely
Core is rotted
Pesticides poisoned
Blood giving life
Through the roots
But not the right kind of life
The dead kind of life
Bounty dead
An innocent deer at the base
Her throat slit
And an arrow through her eye
The taste of salt
Still on her tongue
Amara Pendergraft 2012
2.5k · Nov 2012
Emerald.
August Nov 2012
Your fingers curl around the remote
Your eyes are vacant and sad

Once a bustling busy body
Moving at the speed of light

Disease has crept into your limbs
Striking hard towards the core

Spiraling out in lovely veins
Red and ready for the taking

Legs that deny you what you most want
Your body betrays your mind

Mother.
Mom.
Mommy.
Where did you go?
And why won't you come back?
This shell you are now.
That's not you.
Come back.
Please.
What's it's like to have a mother with Multiple Sclerosis.
2.5k · Mar 2014
Constellation Vibration
August Mar 2014
The anticipation of tasting you on my tongue is tantalizing all of my neurons

Firing my synapses sharply while I wait for you to come to me, hungrily

I'm not used to feeling so fixated on a fixture in space, not one with a face

But your fingers make music, mine make words, so lets get together and

burn, burn, burn.
Amara Pendergraft 2014

I've met someone.
2.4k · Nov 2012
Fahrenheit 451
August Nov 2012
'The good writers touch life often
The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her
The bad ones **** her and leave her for the flies'

-Ray Bradbury
2.4k · Jan 2014
Neatly Neglected
August Jan 2014
I drafted my dreams out on a string from window to window

                                                         ­                                               Where they could see some sunshine

                So that they could feel the breeze that whipped the willow trees

                                                          ­I lay on the grass for hours hoping something would change

                                        Everything seemed so strange and sadly serene

My dreams used to be such a large part of me
  
                                                           ­                          I finished my cigarette as the wind writhed, breathing

                                    Pulled down the preliminary principles made of follies, folded them quietly

       Walked inside, adjusting my somber eyes to darker lights

                                                         ­       I open the closet door gently, hands full of my old fabrications

                             I keep lying to myself & trying to tell myself I'm
                                                             ­                                                   putting them away for
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                     *'safe-keeping'.
Amara Pendergraft 2014

I'm sorry I disappear so much and for such long periods of time.
2.4k · Feb 2013
Day Dreamt Hardships
August Feb 2013
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
To see a business with empty windows
The blue building I pass by every day
With the once solid stairs only marked by a paint print
The man in the yellow jacket and the American flag shirt
Even though America is why he is walking on worn down shoes
320 on moffet, dilapidated apartments & hollow doorways
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
The blinking open sign that flickers, only welcoming ghosts
The boy who gets off the bus stop alone, walking by it without a glance
With his back pack strung tiredly over his shoulder
The universal feeling of not fitting in still fresh in his memory
The field of grass, deserted
A cemetery of parts & wheels & headlights & people's once dream machines
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
The lady who lives on 2nd near the sewer drainer
With hoards of stuffed animals waving from inside the windows
As she sits under the awning surrounded by them, smoking a cigarette with trembling fingers
The girl driving with her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel
Grinding her teeth as she watches the people she sees while on the road
Blinks slowly, as she knows home is where she is alone
But she'd rather see this road side sadness then the blank television screen
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
And she screams
As she crashes into a tree
The man in the yellow jacket turns his head
The boy's back pack falls to the ground
The women leaps up, her plush lifeless friends tumbling around her
The building are silent, remorseful
Nothing is a sadder sight to see
August Nov 2012
She rubs the night onto her eyes
In her dish sized eyes, tiny moons shine

She's a galaxy girl
A world all her own
And you know you want her
But all you can do is revolve around her

She grinds up meteors, hoping for a ****
Her coffee *** is filled with Saturn smoke

She's a galaxy girl
A world all her own
And you lay awake and think about her
But all you can do is revolve around her

Inside her chest, a black hole sits
Aurora borealis pours out her fingertips

She's a galaxy girl
A world all her own
And you can't stand the longing for her
But all you can do is revolve around her

The stars form her body, her face, her hips
Kissing space directly on the lips

She's a galaxy girl
A world all her own
You are a million aeons away from her
And all you can do is revolve around her
2.3k · May 2014
Smoking Poetry
August May 2014
I miss you when nights are cold,
While the fire is breathing on my face,
And I can't stand to feel the trace
Of your skin on mine.
I feel so old.

To remove your fingertips,
Bury myself in the glowing embers,
Scorch any trace of you off
My blackened burns.
*I only wish.
Amara Pendergraft 2014

I've been trying so hard to be good again.
August Jan 2013
Flowers bloomed where you traced your fingers.
They grew as if fed by your caress.

And slowly, I became a garden.

My bleeding red Dicentras fluttered, as your hands lingered.
Tuberose & orchids twisted together, covering my dress.

Your words sprung up fresh new buds.

But Lavender began to spring up from the words you planted.
And from my eyes began to sprout begonias, purple and dark.*

I realized that you were not willing to accept that I couldn't grow orange blossoms.

You & I knew my soil wasn’t able to be enchanted.
So I clipped all of my flowers, and shot the lovely larks.

You said I wasn't worth tending. Was I not?

*You kicked the dirt and ripped up the last of the lilacs
Representations:
Dicentras - the heart
Tuberose - pleasure
Orchids - delicate beauty
Lavender - distrust
Begonias - deep thoughts
Orange Blossoms - fertility
Lilac - first love

© Amara Pendergraft 2013
August Apr 2013
Hey sleepy head?
                                                          ­    Where are you tonight?

Are you standing in the corner?
          Over by the white christmas lights?

                                                        ­                   With a miscellaneous mug,
                                                            ­                                   Stolen from not-your-kitchen cabinet.

Are you not ever tired?
              Do you never sleep?

                                                         ­                                                    And when you do,
                                                                          What could you possibly dream?

                                     Of red and white flowers?
                                                *no


  ­   Of bombs destroying towers?
               no

                                                Of illustrated novels about foxes?
                                                          ­                                           no
Do you dream of anything?
                Or is your soul as empty,
  
                                                                                                    As your eyes seem to be?
                                                             ­                       And when I kiss you,





                            *why do you turn away from me?
© Amara Pendergraft 2013
2.2k · Nov 2012
Sign of cruelty
August Nov 2012
The is my commune.
This is my sanctum.
It's transforming into something solid.
Somehow, the back cracks before it's due.
And I'm left with this twisted image of you.
My oh my.
How you have grown.
This body is something that you have never know.
You'll walk on my shadows and I suppose that I'll tug you along.
Churning masses that never happen.
I don't want you to stay here, but where would you go?
I'm not sure how to respond to this repertoire, this power play of sort.
I do what I do best, I'll turn my back on yours.
I'll fold you up and tie you to a carrier pigeon's leg, let it take you away.
The bag lady will feed you in the city park.
You'll cluck and duck like the rest of them.
Naked on the cold cement sidewalks eating bird food with your tiny little beak.
No one will see you but me.
And I don't care.
I'll jog right past your groveling hands.
You won't remember me, I'll be a dream in some forgotten land.
Go hide your head under your wings.
The dove that is the loudest, isn't always the most lovely when he sings.
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
2.2k · Jan 2014
Call Me Diana
August Jan 2014
Bittersweet is the moon that dips below it's fate
Sinking into itself behind the horizon of the lake
Radiance of the sun shines momentarily on it's face
To light up the dark of it's visage, then it falls away
Amara Pendergraft 2014
2.1k · Oct 2012
Wildcat Park
August Oct 2012
This is it
This is reality
The color of the leaves in the sun
The feeling of harsh asphalt on bare feet
The light breeze that makes your hair dance
The lack of manmade noise
The repetition of footsteps
Propelling you forward
2.1k · Aug 2013
Deadly Harvesting
August Aug 2013
I cracked my ribcage open.
Finding a pomegranate in the center.
I pulled it out, ever so slowly.
Cut it open right down the middle.
Ate all the little seeds,
Filled with little screams.
My fingers stained red.
And very ******.
Then I realized,
it was the heart of
Persephone.
*And she was me.
I'm back, *******. Haha.

© Amara Pendergraft 2013
2.0k · Oct 2012
Fallacies Wear Suit Coats
August Oct 2012
What are all these disturbed fallacies
That taunt and tease at my ear drums
They dance around my brain
Piping little golden trumpets
Playing songs that move my body
In unknown wicked ways
They are never ceasing
Always hanging 'bout
I wish they would stop screaming
I wish they wouldn't shout
2.0k · Nov 2012
The Tickle Monster & I
August Nov 2012
When my body used to ache at night
Feeling like bruises were beneath the skin
You'd tell me it was the tickle monster
I'd ask if you were friends with him
And you would nod your head
And I'd say
'could you give him a message for me?'
And you'd say
'well, i can try, but he doesn't like to listen'
I'd ask you to ask him if he could let up at least for one night
Take away all the pain I feel inside my body
And you would put your hand over my eyes
And say 'he'll receive your question'
You'd kiss my lips and tug me closer
Then the next night I'd sleep better
You took your ability when you packed
And left me to deal with a tickle monster
It's funny how we pretend that things exist
To make the pain a little duller
And now my skin aches again as if I've been hit
By a million crashing waves and bodies
And I lay awake and whisper
'Please, receive my message, I don't have a messenger'
'But I'm begging you, I need you now more than ever'
'Your friend has gone, and he left me alone too'
'I guess it's just me & you'
Me & the tickle monster.
Physical pain is the worst pain.

© Amara Pendergraft 2012
1.9k · Dec 2012
Emotion.
August Dec 2012
Human emotion is a beautiful thing
Cherish that you can feel
Love that you can love and hate
And be consumed by feelings
Because it's something that should
Be appreciated & cherished
It's something that is wonderful.
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
1.9k · Dec 2012
Rabbit Hole
August Dec 2012
Follow me down the rabbit hole,
We have a very long way to go
I know you want to turn around
Save her from the porcelain god
That she prays to
But it's too late and she is already gone
I've got things to show you
Things that I trust you to see
I'm taking you with me
So follow me down the rabbit hole,
Slip your hand in mine
I'm going to tug you along through
And there isn't any need to be scared
The monsters in here are only after me
We've passed the rabbit hole & now
I see you looking around
It's a wreck isn't it?
I've let it go to ruin.
Your hand slips out of mine &
You walk towards rows & rows of
Endless houses that are destroyed and sorrowful
I built those once, they were beautiful
They hurt your eyes to look at, don't they?
You stand solid and silent, your eyes drinking in
This landscape that I had made
Then you begin picking things up
Putting things where you think they should be placed.
What are you doing?!
You look at me & say,
'I'm building'
I tug on your shoulder,
Making you drop a piece of debris
Stop, I say
But you aren't listening to me
You smile at me and kiss my forehead,
Then you proceed
I scream and shout and you don't listen
Get out! Get out! Get out!
This isn't what I brought you here for
This is my rabbit hole
All I wanted you to do was see!
You aren't allowed to touch this stuff
THIS IS MINE
I destroyed this for a reason!
I grab you by the collar and tug you with all my force
Your eyes are wide with surprise
For someone so small, I moved you quite a bit
And we make eye contact
I crumple to the ground
And I look around
At all the houses that I built & destroyed
At this toxic wasteland
That is my rabbit hole
My eyes are stained black from tears
I didn't know still ran
I whisper
'Go back to her & her porcelain god.'
'I don't know why I brought you here.'
'Go.'
And you stand there, startled,
Slowly you turn around and leave
My face is buried in my knees
I'm in my rabbit hole
No one else should see.
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
1.8k · Oct 2012
Little, None, Done.
August Oct 2012
One can not begin to say
How the womb encompasses
The brain and strangles it
To the point of breaking
A small hand tugs on all of the organs
Planting a tree that does not bear fruit
Into the churning mass of sensation
A due date has been set on something beautiful
Taking away its appeal and spontaneity
Because the cave has a limited depth
Few comprehend the anxious meaning
The importance of the time
When the clock hands both land on zwölf
And the ringing sensation has been filled throughout
But reality is the one to say that you have to wind it
The pendulum swings, cutting away at the stomach
Since the day of conception
What cruel deity would cast a misty cloud
Over the flower of youth
Poisoning away any hope of survival
One can only wonder
August Oct 2013
All the days are graying and I'm fraying like the sweater my grandfather gave me.

It still smells of cigars and old west, I'm ever quested and pressed with emotion.

I've become a faded flower fated to the pages of an old almanac in the back of the library.

Scents of worn novellas standing solitary on shelves and fragrant wisps of wisteria.

Alone to settle and mettle with dust and dialogues full of empty follies and triumphs.
Amara Pendergraft 2013
1.8k · Jan 2013
By The Loosest Definition
August Jan 2013
My social skills are strong enough
I can live with parties & get togethers
But home is most comfortable
Even though my definition of home is weak
Home is where I can be alone
Certainly preferable
To small talk, oh how I hate small talk!
It's just a long road not worth the walk
Words are me when they are written, not spoken
And I'm the one who prefers to listen
Sit back and watch everyone else go
And I never liked putting labels on things
Too organized, not enough chaos
But as much as I try
My insecure human nature
It loves to name
And it names me an introvert
By the loosest definition
I don't want to name myself anything
I just want to be me
But even 'me' has been dibbed by labels
Not even 'I' is really mine
Because it is shared with everyone else
And the only way I feel better is
Is when I'm alone at 3: 26 a.m.
Where 'I' and 'me' feel like my own
1.7k · Dec 2012
Dear You,
August Dec 2012
I've locked myself up,
These past two years.
I'd say I don't blame you,
But then I'd be lying.
Thanks for the gift.
I didn't know you
Could package heartbreak.
It was a little earlier
Than the holidays, but
It loves to open up
On Christmas,
And make me cry
Under the mistletoe.
You wrapped it up,
In beautiful ribbon.
Just like you wrapped me,
Up around your finger,
Two years ago.
Thanks for that.

Hope you have a wonderful holiday,
        Sincerely,
              Amara
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
1.7k · Dec 2012
Stripe-breasted Starthroat
August Dec 2012
Beauty is but a construction
               Of our mind.
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
August May 2013
Today you found me candy-
                        coated on the kitchen floor.
A cigarette trembling
                        in between two of my fingers.
You tried to pick me up,
                        but my skin and bones were no more.
Though I'm nearly gone,
                        your idea of me makes me linger.

And when the days turns to dust,
                        I will still be here for you.
We are both broken people,
                        conceived by our own reprieves.
So do not pick me up,
                        just lay with me like you used to.
And hopefully neither of us,
                       will feel the need to leave.
© Amara Pendergraft 2013
August Nov 2012
I'm standing at the kitchen sink
The curtains are yellow and white
The light is cast on my face
As my eyes drag towards you
And a laugh tumbles out
It's without my blessing
And your teeth show from ear to ear
One tumble leads to another
Like a lady gymnast
And now we are tumbling together
The slap of your hands
They are greeting the kitchen table
I'm doubled over with happiness
And we just keep meeting
Over and over again
The linoleum is dented
With a million footsteps
Where we danced together
Twirling like a ribbon girl
Where I stirred the batter
That made your burnt birthday cake
And I'm barren, unable to conceive
But, we are each others babies
Our crib is each others arms
You take me as I am
Like the ugly wallpaper
In the upstairs bathroom
If I have love, this is what it will be like.

© Amara Pendergraft 2012
August Dec 2012
I feel like Cruella DeVille,
Smoking a capri
In brand new clothes
Because Christmas
Just happened
Why did, when I opened
All of the gifts from
Family & friends,
Did I long for a person
To step out of a box
And wrap their arms
Around me?
To take them back
To my apartment
So we could sit on
The mattress on the floor
Smoking my little
DeVille cigarettes
And drinking a,
Previously unopened,
Bottle of bourbon
In my now,
Newly gifted
Star Wars mugs
Wow, this isn't easy.

© Amara Pendergraft 2012
1.6k · Dec 2012
Box In the Brain
August Dec 2012
I'm in a closed box
With tape on the top
Don't have any scissors
Have to use my fingernails
Scratch Scratch Scratch
Doesn't work
****
Maybe I should shout?
Let me out?! Let me out!
No one is listening.
I look through the slit
Through the clear tape
I touch my hand to the top
Of my cardboard box
All I see is white outside
I go to curl up a bit
Moving my hand,
But I can't
It sticks
To the top of the box
And I tug & pull
But it doesn't come off
I let out a small sound
I prop my other hand
On the side
And then I realize
That it's now also attached
****
Panic creeps into
The back of my brain
I pull very hard
But to no avail
I start to scream and thrash
As my skin
Touches the box
It sticks
And now I'm still
Still as can be
The box is holding me
Prisoner
The more I tug
The more I feel
Myself getting tugged
Towards it's surface
What is it's purpose?
I put this box in
The back of my brain
Long ago
What was in it?
I really don't know
Or I just can't remember
I'm overly uncomfortable
Then I realize,
I'm in it
And it's trying to consume me
I shouldn't have done it
I put my, myself in this box
And I tossed it into
The back of my brain
I have to refrain
From screaming in pain
As the box let's go of
My skin
I hear the schick schick
Of the tape peeling off
The top of the box
Opens very quietly
I stand up and stretch
Afraid it'll happen
Again
And get out of the box
Before it changes it's mind
And I look around
It's all white
So, this is what the inside of
My head looks like
Boxes upon boxes
Are stacked up like skyscrapers
I see some scissors
Lying beside the now open
Box
I look around again
Then I grab the scissors &
A box,
Slash the tape
Hoping to find all of
Myself again
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
1.6k · Oct 2012
Solo Intrepid
August Oct 2012
Block the flow
Fill up the banquet
With a feast fit for a rich man
Lean the pole into the ground
Silence only for a moment
Eagerness fills the air
Sickly sweet and bitter
Push it toward the core
Hitting the stream
Is not as hard as it used to be
But the longing is harder
A geyser of icy water
Hot juice intertwining with chilly liquid
Causing an explosion of endorphins
Destroying in an array of colors
It doesn't get any better than this
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
1.6k · Nov 2012
Lately
August Nov 2012
I'll put down my orange colored pencil
And I'll order a thousand boxes
Then eat a bite out of my bowl
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
August May 2013
There isn't really any significance in our attempts
The sweater's string is being pulled as we continue to knit

But the string is unraveling and we are left only cold
The pasta on our plate is nothing but an appealing fake

So our bellies are empty and our shoulders are shivering
We lay there limply as we are slowly wrapped in our own string

Wrists and ankles bound by unfulfilled and color-coded dreams
An S & M horror show in the sheets with life, us, & we

Dancing like a jerky ballerina, eyes glazed over now
We used to know how to walk and talk, but we've forgotten how

So as puppets we are told that we are not cold nor hungry
And that everything is fine and everything is as it seems

So we smile, thinking our wooden houses can make us happy
We don't notice that everything is painted the same color

Or girls and boys look exactly like their fathers and mothers
And we are just waiting to be piled onto the dead heap

Of broken toys and broken dreams that sometimes plagues our deep sleep
That feeling when you get really sad sometimes, that's what that is

So cut your strings, and think some things, breathe out as human again
The puppeteer has no time to hear of a few strings snapping

He has his hands full keeping down the human spirit, you know?
And when he's sleeping, cut off his fingers and his little toes

I know you are worried because you are tiny and alone
But he can't do anything if he has nothing to control

If the blade is still ******, do not clean any of it off
Use the blood and blade to cut the strings and soak their wood awash

Wood stained red, breathe life again, their eyes light up with words unsaid
And the lonely alabaster trees are swaying in the breeze

Red streamers tied to the branches to signify what is free

If only someone really had the courage to cut the strings
*I could go for the gritty, teeth-biting, ******, anarchy.
© Amara Pendergraft 2013
1.6k · Jan 2013
A Clever Fumbled Thimble
August Jan 2013
Are you like        And though
The last one?     Your lips were
I wonder & worry     Very clumsy
If you'll be right,      And fumbled like
Right for me,        I actually made you
At least.          Nervous. You! Nervous!
You were cute,     Ha! What a silly
When you asked     Thought, But, I could
If I needed a      Feel the heat, I didn't
Goodnight kiss.     Mind your fumble
Then I asked      I knew it was sincere, the
If you thought     Thought behind it,
I did.           I touch my lips now,
And you replied     Thinking of it.
I think you do.     And, boy, I haven't
Which was oh,   Touched my lips
So very clever, you       From a kiss
Clever boy.      In a very long time.
© Amara Pendergraft 2013
1.5k · Feb 2013
My name is Tundra
August Feb 2013
Tepid times, as the grass,
Covered in little, tiny
Dew drops, sways in
The hot wind of
The orange summer sky
I run my red tinted fingers
On your sticky warm face
In the almost dead
Vegetation
I close my eyes
Feeling the heat coat me
As your hand
Slips from mine
For you were just a
*Mirage
August Mar 2013
Help me take on this world of woe
I know I can't do it on my own
While people are fading and changing
I'm a permanent fixture, watching, waiting
Run your fingers down my back to keep me fixed
Eradicate my distractions with every kiss
And I'll put my hands to your face
I won't waste this precious space
I think we can do this if we are strong.
Standing in the middle of this surging throng.
© Amara Pendergraft 2013
1.5k · Sep 2014
Tabescent Tempest
August Sep 2014
It's three a.m. & I am not asleep

How could I close my eyes to nights like these?

When thunder rumbles my ribcage and breathes an ache into my chest

Where water droplets drip onto my thoughts & liquefy them

Lightning coursing through my shaking veins

Every strike echoing & electrifying my brain

Chilly breaths that creep along my skin, serenading it

My cigarette with every pull more luminant

I've circumvented myself into side effects of hopelessness

The sounds of rain stripping me softly into submissive erosion..
Amara Pendergraft 2014
1.5k · Jan 2013
Things I love: A compilation
August Jan 2013
Keep in mind that I'm attempting to keep this simple
Today I realized that I'm quite bitter
I also realized that I'm a terrible quitter
But I also decided that when I'm feeling down
I'll make a compilation to get me off the ground
Of things I love, because I know there are many
I apologize if you don't feel like reading plenty
I shouldn't postpone this any longer
I need to make myself realize that I'm stronger

So, things I love.
I love hot long showers
I love photographing flowers
I love a hot steaming cup of tea
I love walking only 6 blocks to go to the library
I love the feeling of a cold pillow on my face
I love plugging in head phones & disappearing without a trace
I love it when a person plays with my hair
I love Chicago, did you know I'm moving there?
I love paper cranes
I love filling up picture frames
I love the smell of old books
I love walking around town, alone, finding hidden nooks
I love deja vu, which I'm actually having this instant
I love writing poetry, hearing your guys' opinions, even if they are ever so distant
I love the long drag of a skinny cigarette
I love standing by the back door after a sunset
I love marbles, elephants, old dusty cameras, & boba fett
I love finding lovely people that I've never met
I love going to sleep at a decent time, which feels like never at all
I love putting up quotes that make my heart flutter on my wall
I love reading books that make me feel changed after I'm done
I love cooking for everyone
I love doing things by myself, no matter how hard
I love the fact that I'll never own a credit card
I love that it makes me happy when I get compliments
I love, also, that if I'm insulted, I couldn't give a ****
I love the emphasis on curse words that comes with them
I love tasting words in your mouth again and again
I love websites that feel like the are created for me
I love whenever I can remember my dreams
I love meeting a handsome strangers glance
I love that even though I meet it, that I will never have a chance
I love taking breaks
I love when people don't know I know they are fakes
I love experiences
I love watching as someone dances

I love all of these things, and so many more
I'm sorry if you didn't want to read all the things I adore
This piece isn't meant to be elaborately written or read
It's only purpose is to flow & to solve some problems in my head
Maybe I sort of want to make the reader feel better too
Realize that the things that you love are full of value
Maybe I suggest you write some of the things you love
Before you push away everything good with a violent shove
I really hope that I helped you as much as a I helped me
Read these & appreciate the simple things, I hope you'll see

I think I'll do more of these in the future.
This was very beneficial. I feel so much better now. Writing is such a wonderful therapeutic tool & sometimes it is just so hard to focus on anything but the negative.
August Nov 2012
Introverted.
The doctor says I'm broken.
Possible to not have a ******?
Guess it never developed.
Like my sense of humour.
Ha ha.
I guess I won't share my horror stories.
No babies in my stomach.
No child with matching hazel eyes.
Making things even more complicated.
Forced to be celibate by my body.
Doctor appointments needed.
Glad I never tried.
It would have hurt that much more.
Dysfunctional is an understatement.
I can't provide anything,
But my mind.
And even I don't want that.
16 is a great age for learning new things.

© Amara Pendergraft 2012
1.5k · Dec 2012
2009
August Dec 2012
Cooped up in a mini van
Feeling the tips of your
Fingers
Drumming on the back
Of my neck
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
1.5k · Sep 2013
Mortem Moscato
August Sep 2013
Can I just go on forever and never have to love?

Can I etch my eyes into the curves of my fingerprints?

When will my heart beat like the wings of a hummingbird?

When will I be enough for the ones that I touch?

Can I keep walking without a home?

I am overcome

with intense displays of emotion

sometimes,

In the pouring rain.

And I know it's in vain

But I carry on,

*Oh, you know I carry on.
Amara Pendergraft 2013
1.4k · Dec 2012
Dinner Date
August Dec 2012
Look for the point of contact
Savor the moment of friction
She has straight cut bangs
And a necklace that has a
Hamsa hand with an eye in
The middle of the palm
She blinks large blue eyes
That are rimmed with
Long, dark, black eyelashes
She leans her long neck
Her dark, dark hair
Swishes at her pale collar bones
She purses her light, light pink
Lips that have touched to many
Lovely red beating hearts
She puts her skinny fingers on
Your hand from across
The dinner table, across the coffee
And the half-smoked cigarettes
You glance at how the light
Reflects off of all those piercings
Up & down her ears
Her lips part & she says very slowly,
Pronouncing each syllable one by one
"Let-s, ge-t ou-t of he-re."
You throw a *** of cash on the table
Not caring if it's the right amount
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
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