Monday, August 26, 2019

Rena J. Worley


I’m hangin’ in my room
Staring down childhood unicorns
Stuffed, postered, porcelain
From eight foot up
I’m five two

I’m hangin’ in
Throes of teenage heartbreak
Red-faced loss
Bulldozed breathless end
I’m crushed

I’m hangin’ by a thread
Stilled no longer swaying
Neck bath-robe belted
To a hook bolt in a ceiling beam
I’m frozen wide-eyed

I’m hangin’ out
In pieces from my PJs
Lifeless limbed
Unendingly broken
I’m beyond repair

I’m five-two
I’m crushed
I’m frozen wide-eyed
I’m beyond repair
I’m hangin’ in my room

I’m hanging
my room

R.J. reads "Thread Bare":

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R.J. confesses: "Attempting, in multiple ways over multiple days, to explicitly describe the drive behind these words has been a failure. Teenage suicide. Sad, so very, very, sad. Enough said."

RENA J. WORLEY s a Word Artist residing in rural Michigan. Previously published in The Five-Two on May 27, 2019.

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