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Dazzled by
the glamour of robber barons,
   a **** fetishist
      shills for feudal revival
         ambidextrously flogging
      bleach-white equestrian bones
   eventually dying
a looter's death.
Ayn Rand was a Russian-born American novelist, philosopher, playwright, and screenwriter. (via Wikipedia)

Mortified at Trump's presidential campaign, I can't help but think of it as the logical conclusion of garbage philosophy.

The "**** fetishist" thing may seem provocative for those unfamiliar with her work. A review of the *** scenes in The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged should provide context.

My partner pointed out that mentioning it at all might be perceived as ****-shaming. She makes a worthwhile point, so to clarify - that's not my intent, and my sincere apologies to anyone who might be offended.

Rather, it seems metaphorically apt as a description of American politics - the powerlessness we seem to display every four years in the torrent of  manipulative, exploitive electoral pandering. When will we finally tire of it?

I imagine Rand would have voted for Trump.
 Aug 2016 ryan
Robyn
Ryan
 Aug 2016 ryan
Robyn
I fall asleep -
Curled up small above the cab of the camper -
My eyes drawn to the pools of night in your face below -
My hand hanging down so my fingers brush your forehead -
I stare, for as long as my eyes will stay open -
Below me -
The face of my forever.
 Aug 2016 ryan
Robyn
Respirator
 Aug 2016 ryan
Robyn
Time without
huuhh
The respirator
huuhh
Is good practice
huuhh
For the lungs
huuhh
But every breath
huuhh
Is still
huuhh
A ludicrous pain
You don't realize how long two weeks is until you spend it apart.
 Jul 2016 ryan
Robyn
Little Puddle
 Jul 2016 ryan
Robyn
The heat of your forehead -
An oval of warmth on mine
Mint breath
And soft breathing
Your hands tighten as you relax
Fingers kissing
I say  be still
And guide you with my inhales and exhales
And the fear and the hurt and the anger drain out of you
Into a puddle on the floor
And you're a puddle in my arms
I love you so, little puddle
 Jul 2016 ryan
Robyn
Untitled
 Jul 2016 ryan
Robyn
I have a lot of monsters
Some are here and some are there
They hide inside my closet doors
Or whisper in my hair
They were made to **** me
And one day
One of them will win
But when I feel your arms around me
I don't let those monsters in
 Jun 2016 ryan
Robyn
Can't Sleep
 Jun 2016 ryan
Robyn
If you were here -
I'd be warm. Cool. In between.
Hungry. Full.
Somewhere in between -
Amongst the push and pull.
Tired. Awake.
One or the other -
Stir. Shake.
Shiver. Sweat.
Remember. Forget.
If you were here -
Shiver. Shake.
If be either sleep or
Awake.
But here I am -
Stuck.
Push, pull
Back, forth

****.
 May 2016 ryan
Robyn
Your soft whispers
Give me shivers
Fingers quiver
On my cheek
Speaking softly
Breathing, wafting
Don't stop talking
Always speak

Kiss me softly
Kiss me long
Roughly, gently
Kiss me (til I'm) wrong
 May 2016 ryan
Robyn
I came to a fork in the road.
I stared at it for a long time.
It stared back, daunting.
Unmoving.
I picked it up and snapped it over my knee.

I decided to not decide.
I used the fork to eat my lunch.
Sitting there -
at a fork in the road.
I ate. And slept.
Refusal.

I refuse to cooperate.
At the end of the year, the apathy is weighing on me heavily. I have decisions to make and I'm deciding not to make them.
 May 2016 ryan
Robyn
My Cosmonaut
 May 2016 ryan
Robyn
My Cosmonaut
Scouring the stars for me
His life is all night and glitter
As I watch from my little marble
He floats
He flies
My Cosmonaut will rise
To the challenge
And bring a little space back
For me
 Apr 2016 ryan
Robyn
Getting a grip
 Apr 2016 ryan
Robyn
Who decided to rhyme grip with slip?
The harder I grip
The more things slip through my hands
I'm gripping
Things slipping
Which is which?
Sometimes, I can't even tell
I'm gripping school
And yet my grades are slipping
I'm gripping money
And yet it slips like pennies through my fingers
I'm gripping God
And yet He I feel the cloth of his robe slipping away
I'm gripping Life
And yet I often feel like Dying
Not unhappy
I'm not crying
Just confused, annoyed
Because everything I'm gripping
Knuckles white
Running till I'm tripping
Is slipping away
I might need to see a doctor.
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