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 Apr 2013 Tim Knight
I don't like people. I like red wine & cigarettes.
 Jan 2013 Tim Knight
Erica Boyd
Any reaching that is done
Is a groping fumble far from sun
Hours away in black hole memory
What's for hostage when you're the enemy?

Where are my clothes?
So ugly with sin.
How many hands,
have been on this skin?

Moaning like some sick animal
Chained to a porch begins to cannibal
All it is is ugly flesh
Whining pitifully with every breath

But the howling was always in its head
Put your clothes on,

You are far from dead.
 Jan 2013 Tim Knight
Erica Boyd
The hair that fell to my waist
Heavy like a curtain
And blonde
And parted on the side
That covered my bare *******
and got in the way of kissing
And It got stares
And It got petted
Like some fine horse
With some fine mane
A rare prize
And the drunk boy
Sitting next to me
That I didn't notice
Who was twirling it around his ***** finger
And that other man
That I didn't notice
Who became obsessed with It
His ***** fetish
And in the middle of the night
He did Those Things
So one day
I just cut It off
Above my shoulders
And everyone was sad
Why WHY why
Did you cut your hair?
But we still like It

So I just cut it off

Until it was above my ears
And I can see the disappointment
Of Everyone Else
Who doesn't understand
So sad
about It
And I smile.
 Dec 2012 Tim Knight
It's not hard
To find people
Who party
Like it's still 1991
There will always
Be the girls
Who get
Decked out
Get drunk
And pick fights
Guys who flirt
With your skin
On the dance floor
Who take you
To their place
Showing you
You've never known
There will always
Be additives
That make you
Have a great night
Or send you crashing
Without any hope
Of holding on
People take the ride
And it spits them
Out like chewed up
Sunflower carcasses
To live is to be
Free, they say
You give a bird
Too much fly room
And he'll wear
Out his wings
You can dream
About the ***
You'll have
And the girls you'll
never meet
But after all of
The drinking
The smoking
The good time
You still go home
And you still lay in
Your bed
And you still get up
In the morning
With a hangover
And you still feel
Like you are the
Only person
Like you
And you still
Want to be able
To sit around
Without having to
Think about
How lonely you
Really are
Even though
Every night,
You felt like
You were
A exploding
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
 Dec 2012 Tim Knight
Riding to the post office
On my red Schwinn
My shoes, they have holes
Because they are my favorite
And I won't stop wearing them
Until I get new ones
I'm in weather heaven
And I park my bike &
Hook it up to the bar
That I keep getting yelled at
For hooking it up to
Walk in, wait in line
And there is a baby boy
In a lady's arms, with
Bright blue eyes and
Fiery red hair, as he looks at me
With wide wide eyes
He soaks in everything that I am
His baby brain over sensitive
Firing neurons that make
Him **** in every detail
Overwhelming his little head
And he grins a tiny,
Toothless smile at me
I grin & look away
I wish I could have kids...
I buy my stamps & send a package
To my uncle
Then I go unhook my bike
Ride this weather like
A bird & try not to think
About that fiery red haired child
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
I like the think about beautiful things, where ever they may be. Whether it's the flowers in the trees or the curve in your waist, it all makes me smile, and glow, and love all that is.
Sometimes all my head needs to hear
Are sensible stimulations to keep
My thirsty thoughts on track.

I am sorry for my sporadic sensations,
I should share them with the class.
But I can't keep constant cognition
Since the sunshine sparkles in my sights,
And an essence ever so eloquent evanesces from Elaine,
And Fred's fervid feeding fantasia flogs my guts.
I apologize for my lack of attention.
I know it doesn't adhere to your ability and awareness.

But bare with me babe, I have big benevolent things to say.
My waking words of wisdom wage a token to your time.
So I speak like significant social crime,
It seems so sensible, does it not?
Aye, let me idle your illness
And enlighten your English!
My thin ticking thoughts throw in all directions,
I'm positive something will appeal to your petition.

Just Listen and Learn!
All my alliteration has already altered your apperception.
Soon my silly sounds will cease.
I guarantee this gossip
Makes you giddy and not guilty.
So I thank you,
For listening to my labor.
It truly told a timeless tale.
 Dec 2012 Tim Knight
I’m not sure if it’s a suicide attempt.
It seems all too plausible that my organs are trying to commit
They jump up, far too high, and cut off my breathing
Then fall down
Gathering their weight to slam themselves into the pit of my being
And up again to crush once more down
Up, down, up, down
My heart increases its beating to catch up
My fists clench
My fingernails dig into my skin
My hair stands on end
Surely you were sent to destroy.
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