Category: medicine
Categories
Abelard and Heloise activism Americana animals arts astrolabe astronomy baseball writing biology cartography cemeteries chronology comfort dance death destruction deviance domestic violence education epidemeology Europe fairy tales family feminism festivities forensics fucking funerals geneology girl stuff happiness history holidays Hunter S. Thompson iconography journalism local color love poetry medicine muse museums non-fiction Ohio ornithology pandemics performance poetic theory punk red hair in the morning, fucker grab a cab relationship studies religion religious studies reproductive rights rituals science seasons shooting stars society sociology Southern Gothic The British Royal Crown tomes travel writing Urban Legends war weddings womens studies writing
she kept her honor
so he took her like an animal
but my father’s ghost wept
so she went to the men
like a good American
good people don’t want to believe
in visionaries good or bad
especially when you have red clay mud
starved stabbed scabbed over and over
on your grandmother’s dress from being raped just like her
from ft. Sumter to Wounded Knee
he’d never seen that color red come out of a living fertility statue
my veil is torn
the dog is dead
the natives have resumed their drumbeat
Categories
Abelard and Heloise activism Americana animals Anne Boleyn astrolabe astronomy baseball writing battle beauty belief bibliophilia biology books botany California cartography cemeteries childhood Christmas chronology cinema civility coffee comedy comfort communication confections corsets crime criminal behavior dance death desserts destruction deviance digital art digital photography divinity domestic violence drawing ecology education electoral process English epicuriosity epidemeology Europe fairy tales family fashion fauna feminism festivities fiction film food forensics fucking funerals furniture geneology geography girl stuff good reads government government and a lack thereof gratitude Halloween happiness health Hell history holidays human behavior iconography Jazz journalism kindness kinetics Lent life literature local color love poetry medicine mindfulness mortuary sciences mourning muse museums Music mythology nature non-fiction Ohio ornithology painting pandemics papyrus parenthood parenting Paris performance photography physics poetic theory politics pop culture produce psychology public broadcasting publishing punk puppies reading red hair in the morning, fucker grab a cab relationship studies relationships religious studies reproductive rights rituals romance science science writing seasons self-care self-love sex sexism sexuality shitty shit shooting stars Short Stories slang society sociology sociopathology Southern Gothic Southern Living suicide technology thanatology the arts The British Royal Crown theatre theism theology tomes traditions travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice war waste weddings women words writing
Poof* Take MY water
Categories
activism addiction affectation Americana art atheism baseball writing behavior belief cemeteries chronology civility divinity festivities fucking funerals geneology government government and a lack thereof happiness Hell history human behavior iconography insects Jazz kindness Lent literature local color love poetry medicine mourning nature nightmares non-fiction pandemics poetry politics pop culture psychology punk puppies religion Uncategorized
ATM
They
will sell you
candy cigarettes,
insulin,
Camel Wides,
chemotherapy,
God,
nicotine patches,
life insurance,
and a bronze casket
all
in one lifetime.
Categories
Americana cinema civility coffee comfort dance death desserts destruction divinity domestic violence ecology electoral process English fairy tales family forensics fucking funerals geneology government and a lack thereof horror human behavior humanity humor iconography infidelity insects Jazz journalism kindness kinetics life literature local color love love poetry medicine mindfulness mortuary science mourning non-fiction ornithology painting pandemics parenthood Paris performance photography physics poetic theory poetry pop culture psychology publishing punk reading relationship studies rituals romance science science writing self-care self-love sex sexism sexuality shitty shit shooting stars Short Stories slang society sociology sociopathology Southern Gothic Southern Living suicide technology thanatology the arts theatre theism theology tomes traditions travel travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice waste weddings womens studies words writing
Paris in the rain
a woman’s life
is too tenuous
delicate
billowy
spider web
close call on I-75
in preterm labor
on the way to the
Paris airport
in the rain
fragile
beautiful
precious
sacrosanct
finite
for bad friends
bad family
bad coffee
bad shoes
bad mattresses
bad jobs
bad husbands
bad debt
and bad dick
learn this by 30 for maximum
enjoyment
future
female
conquerors
of a dying planet
Categories
activism Americana analysis art baseball writing battle behavior belief cemeteries childhood chronology civility comfort corsets crime criminal behavior dance death destruction deviance divinity ecology education electoral process Europe fairy tales family feminism fiction fucking furniture geneology geography government government and a lack thereof happiness Hell history horror human behavior humanity humor iconography journalism Kentucky kindness kinetics literature local color love medicine mortuary science mourning muse museums Music mythology nature nightmares non-fiction Ohio ornithology painting pandemics papyrus parenthood Paris performance physics poetry politics pop culture psychology
of thee I sing
the true measure
of a civilized society
are the rumors
told by its ghosts
every night you were away
i sought you out
through blackberry bramble ether
from weeping constellations above dixmyth avenue
to jessamine county barns filled with horse hay
perpetually wrapping blue ribbon around my finger
whispering vespers
my plea to the particles of the universe
to hold you together
to bring you back from oblivion
as you had done for me
you are my chosen family
inextricably part
of my thunderous heart
to which you will always hold the latchkey
Categories
juggernaut
when a sociopath
says i love you
what they’re actually saying is
that it pleases them
to inflict their twisted personality
upon you regardless of your desires
that they will do so at their leisure
until one
or both of you
is dead
yet they are too sick in the mind
to see it that way
not able to smell their flowers
reek of decay