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prāz Feb 2021
i remember you like winter- untold
a whistle in the heft of its dawn
warm in the touch of numbing air
another narrative yet to unfold


i remember you like tempest- still
haze and nimbus and blur
neptune setting down quiet amidst the thrill
akin to a morning dew sleeping on a leaf


i remember you like midnight sky
mirroring fragile stars gone astray
beyond the compass of the pacific sweeping eyes
wandering through the desert of space and time


i remember you like an afternoon pouring rain
running gently down my windowpane
fog blearing the cracks across the looking glass
another riddle yet to unravel until the last


yet...


still.


i remember you like the summer campfire sea breeze
a silver lining in the deep end
that mellow tinge of red on the horizon
amidst the serene azure no wind could mend


i remember you like my fervid morning alarms
a quiver that keeps me grounded
a tune amongst the chaos that surrounds it
the melody of a new day


i remember you like the distant lies i tell myself
that i will never be enough for somebody
intensely during dark days like these
i remember you. like i remember myself


you remind me of a ghost feeling
often swept off by thoughts that speak louder
stingin spines, humming veins, that crease across your cheeks
and all that is concealed under


lastly- not
i remember you as you are
imperfect
but mine.
© rekenerer
v// illbe
vol | d
prāz Jan 2021
i want you back
to **** me again

perhaps
this depression is better-
at least i know what it is
at least i know what i feel

like dry acid down my throat
like gold mines down my gut
like a fly dead on my skin

the certainty when i enhaled
a mouthful of anthrax-enigma
and swallowed it after
screaming full

full of content
should i die tonight
at least
i knew the last feeling i had

perhaps
this depression is better
by a hundred-fold of rotten rose petals
by an extra cup of bane
by a last careful blink

perhaps
it is
perhaps
it is

than this feeling
i will never fathom what
how, why- why me
again- how- again, again

perhaps, it is not really what
that matters
perhaps, it is knowing what
that leave dents

certainty, i want you back
to **** me again
id rather die with your bare hands
than these of mine

smother me
to death
to death
tonight
© rekenerer
xrpt: qrtrs nd cntng
vol | none
prāz Oct 2020
November
       is killing me, again
pitch black ink
whiff of a stygian crypt
      off me write, again.

November
       is making me write, again
same cause, same dram
but a new soul- as pure as spit, foulest-
      drank all of it, again.

November
       is making me drink again
milk boxes of rotten denial on my porch
you rang the bell
      preyed on me, again.

November
      you came gently today
but I deserve more than flakes
of your pride
       masking your touch
with words of half true lies.
© rekenerer
vol |last quarter perils
pulling up archives from 2017
not you, s
you were a bliss
prāz Oct 2020
hers was a petal cannot be carried by the arms of chivalry
but by the carelessness of the wind
hers was a rock cannot be mended by steels of pride
but by the warmth of ember fires

not with a hand that cannot take hold
but touch as light as the morning mist

his was a cuirass promised gold
now rusted alloy shed by half true lies
forlorn from the battles of better men

his was debonair white charming cape
rustled with dirt and peril
their vows forgotten
All for pride was sold
© rekenerer
xrpt: qrtrs nd cntng
vol | s
prāz Sep 2020
here the cold creeps tonight
like a thief
slowly picking the locks
of my cabins foresight

how could i be at ease
when the wind sails
and the sails freeze

i am. autumn
sailing to the north
where it all begins
chilling waves come forth

i am. september
flinging amidst lost winds, allured
had one too many
but still unsure
© rekenerer
vol |22 at 2zero2zero on 22
prāz Feb 2017
This world is ran by chemicals
and we are but a slave
People **** because of drugs,
people live because it saves.

Not one of them?
Fret
People love because of hormones
not because they're brave.
© rekenerer
vol | the truth tattoos
prāz Feb 2017
and not so long later it passed
not with a day nor a half
merely a quarter
but a blink of a name dearly spelled
comes what i learn-
the virtue is the refusal
of sight of all shades
but never that pact of white
not even a tinge of the grayest gray white.
© rekenerer
vol | letters to the king next to me
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