i miss the gorge and the collective breath it takes when the sun sinks into clouds that melt together into colourful lights and through the darkness above you see so many stars and there are so many people and you notice the moment when it starts to feel perfect because there’s lights and music and dancing and you’re with your friends and then you’re sitting on top of a car or somebody’s shoulders looking out into a sea of glow sticks and feeling the cold air on your face and the bass to the core of your body and I swear it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

everything is clear
this is how you know
moments of strange magic

my favorite time of day
is when the day turns into night
when the sky starts to pull
lavender hues into shades of darkness
and i can just exist
in beautiful light

can i close my eyes and sleep now
dreaming in wisps of smoke
like blowing out a candle
and kissing someone you love
in the dark
soft shallow waves come in
clocks turn as feelings
pool up in the corner of the room
there is a light coming in from outside of your window
my mind is leaking
can i close my eyes and sleep now

curtain call for the moon
who really needs stars
when i'm holding mine,
smoking at the end of my fingers

i am willing to sacrifice
my entire social and academic life
to make something big
and meaningful
that only i would really understand
but i can’t right now because
there are important people counting on me
to succeed in this other dimension of life
that might not even matter in the end
i feel weak
for not pursuing this thing i want to make
or take the great american road trip i want to take
and seriously what’s the point
what are we doing
i’m so tired
i'm so tired

the selfie stick
with a gun at the end
pointed at me
shooting you

i want to cry
the way the sky gets real heavy
when it wants to rain
but despite the darkness
of this frigid winter
i have taken
23 laps around the sun
i am alive
i am alive
i am fine

i used to be a lotus bulb
lurking in cold pond waters
with tiny air bubbles
and plant matter floating around

i used to be a lotus bulb
insects flit across
my gloomy waters
that puff with clouded dirt

my father named me renka
in hopes that i would bloom
despite adversity
and mud

my name is renka,
which means lotus flower
my name is renka
but i am not your lotus flower.

i’ve never moved houses
but it’s the classic “it never felt like home,”
so i built one in myself i built a home
and i take it everywhere i go.