Thank You, Todd

…and the elderly woman sat, in the newly transformed hospital room. She could feel the terrible ache from her bones, beneath the swelling of her tissue paper skin. And, for just a moment, (and only inside her head), she thought about taking the next ritual offering of pain medication from the nurses on shift. They made it seem so…delicious-but, unless it was a bottle of whiskey; she wouldn’t know. (It wouldn’t be too much longer–). Still, she wouldnt break. A vow, a promise-to herself, with her integrity and personal dignation, hanging in the balance…no, she wouldn’t take them. She had very strong opinions about drugs; prescribed or not…..if she could only remember what those opinions were. Or, who she was for that matter. All this wondering made her tired. Perhaps she would turn to that deity she occasionally resorted to… if she could just remember his name. It might be Sunday today; there was a sign, outside her door, about a resident chapel.

Perhaps she would attend; a prayer might sway his decision to ease her suffering….(“What was his name?”)…(and how did that little ditty go?) Chapel or not, she decided to give it a try;

“Dear Todd; Theo, Art and Kevin-give us, this day…some bread. (And if you could toast it, with some nice butter and jam-well, I would like that very much)………..Hy-Men”

fin

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Hate Male

  
I am so not into you-

I think your a weirdo.

I throw up in my mouth a bit

Each time I have to see you.

Your a part timer

Your an outright fucking fraud.

Your the stalker in my hedges 

Your such a fucking knob.

I need something better, 

In a world that’s half alive, 

You are such a gear box-

Your conjectures half applied. 

You’re the peeper in the pine trees-

You’re the gum stuck to my shoe.

A vulture who can barely fly, 

(Bitch!) I never wanted you.

  

                                        FIN 

I KNOW MY RIGHTS

046“it is my right; my pre-pubescant-cowboys right ; from the farthest side of the United States, to the other side of the world, I will never give up my right to…SMOKE…(until manhood is thrust, by way of a pick up truck-fast upon me)…Until each cell in my immature body (starting with-occasionally useful-I’m told; organs); foremost my lungs; my blood, my bones and skin are corrupted in dripping, black, resinous tar-malignant, and spreading like wildfire-I insist on my right-my-god-given-right, to smoke…smoke, (and inhale)-I’ll smoke honestly-openly-I will be exercising (frequently) to: my last painful breath…my (rather unexceptional), and masculine-traditional; my rednecked, family, classical,…right…to…SMOKE”.