Bloodlust:

My eyes linger on his neck, only he’s

Looking away. To hold his jugular

In my teeth, to rake fingernails and tear

Tender flesh--pain, not as punishment but

As a declaration of sweet freedom.

If pleasure is my birthright, if pleasure

Has been denied of me so long, I will

Reclaim it with lipstick, claws and high heels.

I think the word for this feeling is bloodlust.

In the days before the end of the world

In the days before the end of the world, I enjoyed myself quite a bit. Even at that time, I had this idea, this inkling that the world was ending and instead of upsetting me, I think it acted rather as a fire under my ass. It was upsetting, of course, the environmental disasters, the war, the famine, and the death. But it all seemed rather distant. The worst part was that my grandparents in Florida were closer to the end of the world than me, and I did worry about them. But I had enough to eat every day and a house with four walls to live in and that was really all I thought I needed. I worked a lot, but I felt that work gave my life meaning. I had good food and good sex in large quantities and the autumn before the end of the world was warm and sunny, a light hearted mockery of the climate change to come. I found myself doing things like buying new dancing shoes, or booking tickets for a concert in February. I made plans to meet a friend in New York City over winter break, although we both knew full well the likelihood of either of us, let alone both of us, making it to the spring was slim at best. In the days before the end of the world, I called a partner, nearly frenzied. "The world is ending." I told him, "We can't just sit around and do nothing." I cried to him for a while, and then we got off topic and talked and laughed and I went and made dinner. As if I couldn't tell you that it was the end of the world.

Sins series 6 and 7

Wrath

Wrath brings out the worst in me.

So I've given it up for grief.

Enough shouting through the hallways. It's the

Ugliest sin, by far.  So instead I

Grieve, for the words I never say.

For the emotions I can never let

Myself feel.  I'm also an ugly crier.

Pride

Pride is the original sin, they tell

Me. I've never been in any trouble

I couldn't talk my way out of

Just because I ate an apple. Yes,

My hair does look fabulous today. I'm

Glad you noticed. If I'm made in

God’s image,  don't I deserve worship, too?

Seven Sins Series 5

Envy

Envy whispers: what does she have that
I don't? Is it her hair, her
Eyes, is she a better dancer than
Me? I hate the way she kisses
him. Will he love her more than
Me? Will she love him more? Maybe
I shouldn't have had that three way.

Seven Sins Series 3 and 4

 "Whereas gluttony is a failure of self-control, greed is a failure of foresight or consideration." --Google

Gluttony:

"Gluttony and Capitalism" was the title of
My freshman year politics term paper. It
Was fifteen pages, seven pages over the
Required page minimum. Naturally I got a
Perfect grade. It had over ten sources
Of all mixed medias and an annotated
bibliography at the back, in numerical order.


Greed:

My roommate's newest T-shirt has GREED printed
On the back in sparkly gold letters.
Next she plans to buy a new
Tattoo. She informs me that this one
Will be a sea turtle in watercolors
Swimming around a glittering bejeweled necklace. Of
Course, her parents will pay for it

Seven sins series 2

Sloth

I could write a poem on sloth,
I guess. That sounds like a lot
Of work. And this chair is so
Comfortable. And typing is too much moving.
Maybe I'll do it later today. Or
Tomorrow. Or the day after or the
Day after that. I'll do it eventually.

Seven sins series 1

Lust:

Lust is by far my favorite sin
A thousand ships were launched by lust
Men spilled blood and women tore apart
Mountains. Royals built temples and peasants built
Fortunes. The wanting. The desire. The burning.
Sex. Maybe orgasm. And afterwards it lingers
Like sweet candy, sticky and sickening

Instructions on how to put together a tent

Instructions:

Chose a spot for the tent. Make sure it’s relatively smooth. Make sure it’s relatively physically and emotionally stable spot. If you check the spot and find lots of bumps or branches or your entire tent site is on a big hill, really just move your tent. Don't make it more complicated then it needs to be. Just pick up the tent and move it. You haven't set up the tent yet. You haven't committed to anything, just move it.

Read the tent instructions. Really, for once in your life, just read the instructions before you set it up. You have a little booklet. It'll take maybe two minutes and save several hours of frustration and confusion. Just read it. Really. If there are no directions, I guess that's just better for you then, isn't it?

Unless the instructions say otherwise, put together the poles. Again, see the previous comment about how following the instructions make life easier. The poles should go together relatively easily. If you have to force them together you're probably doing something wrong. They should go together without any effort. Just a little twist. A little pushing. Barely. Still not going together? Like, would you even consider foreplay? Like, maybe just consider touching the pole's . . . clitoris? Or using some . . . tent . . . lube. Don't fucking force the poles, ok?

Spread the tent out. Just like, look at the tent. Notice which way the bottom of the tent lays flat. Notice where the tent goes. You don't have to judge the tent. Maybe just observe the tent where the poles prop it up. This isn't an opportunity for you to tell the tent that maybe it looks a little heavy in this light. Don't tell the tent that it could maybe lay off the wheat thins and go for a jog once in a while. Well, maybe the tent is a grad student with a full time job and needs easy calories and literally doesn't have any extra time or energy to go for a job. Maybe the tent is comfortable in its own body and doesn't need your fucking negativity in this space any more.

This part may be hard for you but if you can wrap your mind around it, now would be the time to use the poles to set up the tent. I know the idea of actually supporting anything is crazy to you. Why build something up when you could tear it down? Right? And the idea actually providing support? literally un-fucking-conceivable. You dick. Put the poles in the fucking tent. Or throw them in the fucking garbage. I literally care so fucking little. Do you see the fucks I have to give? That's right, you don't. Because I don't have any fucks to give anymore. None. None at all.

Now you have a tent. Congrat-u-fucking-lations. I never loved you anyway. Dipshit. I hope you die alone in your fucking tent.