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ren Mar 26
It is not to abandon reason.
It is not to rip through calloused leather;
If it is a release,
It is an exhale.
Truth, in any realm,
Is not to wrestle with my conscious.
ren Mar 25
Can we honor the life that comes
Without honoring the life from
Whence it came?
When life becomes,
Is she the widened legs of shame?
For my own mother made me
As an extension of her own pleasure
I owe my blood
To her sexuality
For hers is the life
From whence I came.
And when we hold a child with high regard;
Revere the blood that pushes it veins,
Do we give the honor to its own heart
Or do we thank the blood
From whence we came?
ren Nov 2018
I heard you passing out sincere apologies
Hoping one of them would get around to me
I lie awake at night
Without you on my mind
But I have four years worth of excuses
If you would say sorry
I might find a place to store them
ren Oct 2018
Breaking clocks
That's what it feels like
Even when I'm with you,
I wish it were still seven am so I could curl under blankets and feel comforted and weak
I like flying kites
I like picking wildflowers in varying shades of mustard hues
I like resting on the pavement of a church parking lot
I like being with you
But my body feels old and tired
Even wintry kisses and hot chocolate runs
Fill me with dread
I'm afraid of the changing seasons,
Sacred of old cafes giving up and becoming shimmery, glistening electric complexes
I'm afraid of Virginia,
Afraid of everything that isn't the great Tetons
Or old faithful
I'm afraid of being alone
Being without you
Being with you
Being anywhere but hiding on my bathroom floor
As the thunder shakes the ground I rest on,
I wish I were running freely under open skies
I don't know how to do anything but rest
Oldie
ren Aug 2018
I am made of moon shine,
Blue eyes, and mountain crests.
There is a warm, thick fog
Cleaner than stained glass,
The brilliance of an omniscient night,
An advocate for a better life.
ren Jun 2018
I used to end all my prose in exclamations.

When I was a kid,
I would clench my fists
And tighten my jaw so hard,
the veins in my neck would buldge And sore by morning.
If I could close my eyes tight enough,
I could pretend I didn't hear the screams from down the hallway.

I don't want to end my prose in exclamations.
I want sprinkles of rain on my nose,
Not hail.
I want to lay in a field of grass and never once check my watch
And while were making requests,
I want to breathe in pine and lilacs,
I want to recall but not remember the bruises on my back.
ren May 2018
One
You were mine, mine, mine.
I found you with hope zipping about,
Your eyes had energy,
A soar flare before departure.

I gave you the stars and hoped you knew
How to use them.

It has been eighteen months since your
Wandering eyes found change,
And your hands met electricity.

When I left you,
Your stars had disappeared.
You looked at the world with cold and bitter eyes.
Still, the moon eclipsed the sun,
And I was the only one.
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