Renatta Laundry's Page

as with each heartbreak story
heard
my faith in love calved
when she spoke
of bigamy & babies
fathered by him
birthed not from her womb


with it
every ounce of pain
& disappointment
ever felt
stank like a cesspool.
old wounds quickened
again
and again inside of me
the whirlpool
violently refusing
to subside
built another layer
of crusted cynicism
& mistrust
for the human male.


this quagmire
of love & loathe
housed in the same compartment
may have been based on
fear
may have be… Continue

“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.” —Anais Nin.


On the same block that gave me a room of one’s own… a beautiful sense of space & freedom. Same block I tried to drop these ‘you-memories’ on. Some fool welcomed the idea to invade my mental perusing. Same fool decided to act upon it. Same fool… Continue

you haven’t done anything to deserve my heart. nothing particularly amazing to sweep my feet from beneath me. just little things that seem juggernaut size upon remembrance.

and I hate that…

hate that your memories creep on the floor of my mind. or exist like ticking sounds of time and the space of our sharing making thuds upon my cranium. songs I don’t like but now listen to because they played when we were…or they played while in your…and they played…they always seem to play…somehow…because y… Continue

a good friend who i met during those monumental adolescent years and i have the most dysfunctionally functional relationship i know. we greet each other with newly coined phrases that we've dubbed "bringing the hate." and to some this may seem like a weird form of retardation. a vain attempt to be stuck in the giddy moments of puberty sans the real concerns of adulthood. but that's not the case. my friend [with the most unconventional but awesome name] and i, can be found on any given 45mins bre… Continue

maybe it has something to do with listening to india's upcoming album; loving and sensing kinship in "therapy," "he heals me" or simply appreciating "chocolate high" and the sweet of my own desire. or recognizing that i am the beauty of my thoughts... the pleasure of my woman core.

O, to feel so awaken.

embracing the weekends. craving them even. as if life begins friday evening and doesn't break breath until monday morn.

immersing in the condensation. the rush of sensations in every bead of p… Continue