Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
sleeping bag Jun 2016
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
sleeping bag Nov 2015
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
Nov 2015 · 1.8k
the great american roadtrip
sleeping bag Nov 2015
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
Jul 2015 · 1.4k
internet culture
sleeping bag Jul 2015
the selfie stick
with a gun at the end
pointed at me
shooting you
Jul 2015 · 1.2k
23 laps around the sun
sleeping bag Jul 2015
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
May 2015 · 1.4k
tiny plant matter
sleeping bag May 2015
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.
May 2015 · 921
houses
sleeping bag May 2015
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.
Jan 2015 · 1.4k
real life fantasy
sleeping bag Jan 2015
i can still smell your cologne
on my fingertips
from when i held onto your neck
and touched your face
i can't tell what color your eyes are
between the subtle green and grey
glistening like worms on a sidewalk
after a rainy day
your eyes are like the sidewalk
there are literally worms in your eyes
hanging out of the empty sockets
you do not have eyes
you are a zombie
your rotting flesh drips in my direction
sallow arms reach for mine
and i'm just aching to know
why zombies wear cologne
and why i can't write
a ******* poem about my feelings
without resorting to zombies
out of fear of expressing myself
because in real life your eyes are still green
and they are so beautiful
poems are hard
Nov 2014 · 1.6k
Rooms
sleeping bag Nov 2014
Rooms are sort of a sanctuary---
especially for a teenager,
a place to build your own world
even though you feel sort of stuck there.

I took down everything in my room
before I left for college 4 years ago
and now it’s not so much my room
but a room that I stay in sometimes.

There are still remnants of clear tape
that held up posters and photos
and other teenage memorabilia
I surrounded myself with.

When things got boring or lonely
it meant sneaking out of the house
to wander around the neighborhood
with friends or headphones
and then eventually back in my bed
staring up at the stringy lights on my ceiling.

The time I snuck out and smoked my first joint
I didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh
at the fact that I could almost see
the community center I took swim lessons at as a kid
just beyond the end of the lighter.

I think I needed someone to talk to because things got bad,
but all of my feelings and energy went into obsessively building
a world for myself that I could survive in
despite the fact that it was hurting me.

I rearranged my reality into something bearable
but destructive at the same time,
because the only freedom I felt like I had then
was choosing what I wanted to see.

I felt closer to these things than anything in my life;
it was a world made up of memories with friends,
hours and hours of music,
and following some sort of fandom.

Leaving it all behind was like
killing a part of myself that helped me keep going.

Somewhere down that road
I realized that happiness was a choice,
even though my world made of things I depended on
was gone and my problems were still there.

I’m building a different world for myself elsewhere now
but sometimes I end up back in this room
and it feels a little empty
but also the right kind of nostalgic.

— The End —