Brooke Renwick Biography

Loneliness is a festering boil.

Say the fullness of my bones,
can be whittled and honed.
...

What little creatures
live in my garden?
Snails and locusts,
avail by my pardon.
...

Quitting the puffer in my dreams,
but when I try my body screams.
Telling me to get some nicotine.
I have a blind spot so it seems.
...

Love is in the air and,
I want to watch your derriere,
swing as you walk to the
bedroom to get changed,
...

I dream in vivid color.
I dreamt of grim death.
The Reaper's henchmen,
were gathering the lame.
...