Welcome, reader! This piece has been in progress since April 2020 and I am proud to announce its publication. Please join me in taking a rough, analytical look at how the lack of sex education in Protestant Christian churches destroys young women. And how we can stop it.
If you were like me at age fifteen, you either didn’t understand sex, felt weird talking about sex, or were taught that sex was forbidden until you kiss some dude at the altar. Many young women, including me, have had some form of religious upbringing that felt restrictive and controlling. We only…
Software Engineer | Musician | Dog Rescue Work | Bisexual poet and creative dark romanticist who writes about mental health, sexuality, & love.
Dear friends, hi! My name is Anna Blendermann (last name means ‘textile maker’ in German but I’m short ass Irish/French haha).
I’m 25 years old and I got serious about writing on Medium this past week in November 2020.
I grew up in suburban Maryland, and went to community college and university in state where I got my Bachelors’ in Computer Science. …
I’m losing mye-lination
And all my concentration
My mind is tested, invested, an unprotected nation
And I dare say the train hasn’t quite left the station
I sink to marinate
Taste the words that you say
Like a steamy mug of coffee on a chilly, chilly day
For I’m out of sorts in sort of the best way
I’m stomach sick excited
And a little bit frightened
You look like one of those Korean models from brighton
Born and raised, blazed, unfazed, mind bright as a taser
And god I’ve been shocked
Short term incapacinated
Has the train left the…
I forgive you
I forgive you for November at 2 AM, sailing across
The concrete, arms around each other at a loss
For words, came so easily when we were young
I could feel an ‘I love you’ just under my tongue
But a monochrome demon had stolen your lungs
Fingernails at your throat
He forced you to choke
And croak that word ‘no’
I was never so
Broken by anything so simple as a single word.
I forgive me
For loving so wildly, for kissing so blindly and
Allowing my initial perception of us, to color
In monochrome things we…
Good morning! Thank you for being patient with me, friends. Over a week since my release on February 1st, here is part 1 of a poem remake dedicated to my best friend. We will always meet.
I never knew
How badly I wanted you
How badly I needed you
You and I could’ve had what time stole away
With such depression, hesitancy, and shame
I’m so sorry
I’m so sorry
For being so blind
Em please forgive me for all those late nights
Plotting the stars on your living room couch
Drunk on E. John and indie folk albums
And to your fish,
Hello, friends! I’m back. I took a break from writing in January because I got into a car crash and was facing a few major life decisions. The dust has settled and my creative juices are flowing again.
He moves as though a panther
Lazing, lounging around
I blaze for the roundness
Of a back, of
Shoulders other than my own
By neon light he roams
Pulling me in with every taste
But gently crouching, he waits
Until I hesitate
And I take him, for myself
A gift of passion and lust
Never so badly
Have I wanted to take someone home…
The month of my birthday
The month moves slow
As if my limbs drag through a swamp
And oh, I feel desperately cramped
My bones achingly grow
Succumbing to the grasp of progress
Fuck no, I never expected any less
Than to be left
Than to be lonely
At the turn of a quarter century
The month of my vibrant existence
The month of sanity
(No I’m not depressed)
Don’t question my mental health
I’m fine, love
Leave me be
But how dare he, leave me that way?
On the eve of my birthday?
Right before valentine’s day?
He was faultless
I was dauntless
But hell’s demons could not have done any worse
He broke me.
A Short Story.
The clock hands at midnight struck my mind like a gentle, sensible blow, a soft reminder to lay down for the night. Such things as time may be a man-made construct; yet, our biorhythms follow it closely, understanding the turn from day to night. In truth, night had already followed us inside, lurking at the edge of our festivities until, gradually, it crept among us and overtook the resolve of those present.
The motivation to drink and be merry, of course until sunrise, waned as darkness engulfed the windows of our small flat. One by one, folks…
And why nudity is the move during winter 2020.
To my readers: I sat down tonight with no idea what was swirling in my dark subconscious or what would come out. It is 2 sleeps before Christmas. Anything could have surfaced. From the gut of my instinct, here is a piece about the utter ecstasy of being naked.
Being naked at home is pure joy.
With 2020, the year of the pandemic, tragically crashing to a close and chilly weather sweeping over Baltimore, there’s not much to do but cook and video chat friends and fight off seasonal depression.