To be a human being is to be riddled with thousands of imperfections.
Full of flaws; scrapes, spots, and scars cover broken and bruised skin.
But robots need not fear and fret about fixable, trivial defections.

Humans perpetually throw themselves at cold, apathetic, greedy clinicians
Only to be given terrible news and told there is no cure for a horrid death.
Meanwhile, robots bask in the glow of love from a passionate technician.

Humans can never agree when it comes to the dealings of the heart.
Always one-sided, they take turns ruthlessly destroying each other.
Robots, oblivious to the issues of any and all feeling, live freely.

Naive humans will work tirelessly, only to see nothing but certain failure,
But life has never once benefited those of us who are currently living.
So, humans crafted robots, to always succeed where they could not.

“Studying at ------- University
Would afford me so many opportunities
That I could not find elsewhere…”

Personal statements are always BS
Filled with flowery phrases that
No one
In her right mind would ever actually use
My sentences had started to look like
A thesaurus had come along
And vomited up last night's party all over them
Who even talks this way?
Who can take himself so seriously as to think
That his pompous-assery would go unnoticed?
Moreover,
Who seriously wants to read all of this
Pretentiousness
Splattered all over the page
As though some English major's senior thesis
Had been brutally murdered?

“I am ready to bring my own
Determination and
Motivation
Into the equation to improve the
Lives of patients.”

I am disgusted with myself
For trying so hard
To impress a committee of nameless, faceless
Academics
To convince them
With fancy words and pretty sentences
That I am the best person ever
The more I write
The more I wonder if it even matters
If it's really so important for me to become a
Well Connected PhD
Doctor of Philosophy
Engineer Extraordinaire
Patients are going to keep dying
And there's no guarantee I can do a **** thing about it

“The Institute of Biomedical Engineering teaches engineers
To work side by side with clinicians to deliver
Meaningful healthcare results.”

Meaningful
Healthcare
Results
What a wonderfully vague phrase
It means nothing, really
Not without context
But it's Impressive and Dynamic
A phrase a committee would salivate over
(Because "drool" is too simple a word for them)
It's not enough for me to just come out and say how
For my entire life
I've dreamed of myself as Superwoman
Armed with engineering skills and a well-stocked lab
Ready to take down human suffering
I just want to heal people
And blood makes me faint
So I can't be a doctor
But I know my way around a lab now
And I can make medicines
In fact, that's all I want to do
Is to make new, better medicines
To grow cells and tissues and cures in my bioreactors
To make someone, anyone's life a little less painful
And these things cannot be told in florid prose
Because these are the messy parts of life
These are the parts that ache and ooze and itch
Keeping us up all night
Until words blur together
And all that's left are limbs and bodies and faces
So you can throw your thesaurus out the window
Because it's of no use here
None of the BS is helping anyone
Pretty words aren't going to make
A failing heart grow back
And this personal statement isn't going to
Purge anyone's cancer from their veins
But this person
Untroubled by higher diction
Might just do something useful

I have fears – they are very real to me. But contrary to what the some may think, my greatest fears are not rejection and abandonment.

My greatest fear is that everyone will continue to turn their heads while victims are screaming.

My greatest fear is that survivors will express exactly how they feel, whether verbally, or acting out, and they will continue to be invalidated by being told they need medication and therapy in order to control their behavior, thereby reinforcing what they learned as children.

My greatest fear is that victims will continue to be silenced by therapy, or numbed from medication, and the clinicians, the researchers, will continue to ‘theorize’ and develop treatment that, in the long-run, is not helpful because they, themselves were NOT abused and have no idea what really should be done.

My greatest fear is that survivors will continue to be lab rats in the development of treatment that is not helpful, they will continue to drop out, time after time, and they will continue to self-harm, ‘repeat the trauma’, and possibly commit suicide because they believe no one cares.

My greatest fear is that the statistics will grow and no one will do anything about it because they do not know what to do. These are the facts:
             A report of child abuse is made every ten seconds
             More than five children die every day as a result of child abuse.
             Approximately 80% of children that die from abuse are under the age of 4.
             It is estimated that between 50-60% of child fatalities due to maltreatment are not recorded as
             such on death certificates.
             More than 90% of juvenile ****** abuse victims know their perpetrator in some way.
             Child abuse occurs at every socioeconomic level, across ethnic and cultural lines, within all
             religions and at all levels of education.
            About 30% of abused and neglected children will later abuse their own children, continuing
            the horrible cycle of abuse.
            About 80% of 21 year olds that were abused as children met criteria for at least one
            psychological disorder.

And this reflects only what is reported. Imagine what that percentage would be if all of the unreported cases were included.

And of the millions of children that survive the abuse, many grow up to be adults who are able to put it behind them, succeed and present themselves as an acceptable member of society, and many of them do not. But what are we DOING about it? When will people stop turning their heads? When will we finally stop, look and listen to these children being abused and to the adults who were abused as children?

When will we, society, decide that child abuse, and ****, and ****** assault are important, and affect millions of lives every year, and that it can be just as deadly as cancer. When will we finally stop whispering and turning our heads and actually face it and do something to stop it, and effectively treat those who ‘survived’?

I hope it happens in my lifetime, and I hope I can make a difference!

At 7 years old, I told my mother,
"You're not my real mom.
You're my Earth mom,
And at night when I'm asleep,
I go back to my home planet."
As the years sped onwards,
I conceptualized myself as a three headed alien,
A Poet From Another Planet,
Acutely aware of my innate differences.
No explanation had I other than being extraterrestrial.
Those around me, too, seemed to sense I was "other."
Playground insults supported by adults who floated labels like
"Lazy," "Difficult," "Rude," "Deliberately Obtuse"
Over my head as if they were a crown,
Signifying I was queen of kingdom "Unlike Us."
No one looked deeper at the poor social skills ,
The rigidity, sensory difficulties, challenges with executive dysfunction.
It was easier to pretend I was in control,
Choosing the route of difficulty and belittlement.
It was only after I nearly succeeded in killing myself
That someone assembled the whole picture.
My story is not unique among women
Born into bodies and brains whose operating system is Autism.
We are the forgotten, the alienated, and plastered with assumptions,
Lost under the blind eye of those who spin tall tales of
"Only straight, white little boys can possibly be autistic!"
Generations of autistic women have known not a name for their difference,
Bogged down under self-loathing, eating disorders, and suicides,
Anything to cope with a world designed to break them
For the differences everyone noticed but no one could see.
Now that women are finally coming onto the scene,
A subtle shift in the awareness that the clinicians, teachers, doctors
Were missing a whole population of autistic people,
Answers are gate kept behind assessments that are thousands of dollars
And diagnosticians who've yet to see the error of their ways.
Peace of mind seems to be a right only of white autistic men
Who are lucky enough to have the "profile" of autism modeled after them.
It took 19 years, two suicide attempts, including 10 days in a coma
For someone to finally "see me,"
And I'm one of the lucky ones.
Answers were finally mine,
But understanding one's own brain should be a human right.
I think we can all agree:
The price of a diagnosis should not be your life.

statisticians, assistants to quack physicians & staph-blind clinicians

Let's learn what army-fightin' fun is predicated on, for a man with 1
arm won't double his fun by quickly having his only arm amputated
under the direction of a curse & ampoules of dope sorely calculated
over the indirection of 3 talisman on acidical tabules time-activated
from the minute of saturation when clinicians selfishly collaborated

Slice off my lumps with lumpectomy as surgery's a draining feeling
till the lumps grow back after the lumpy period of cut-lump healing
that spills through cancer spillways with malignantic double billing
over soft Müllerian cysts by cancerogenic invoices to craft a killing
via vital nutrimental nutrient deficits ignored by crooked, squealing
medicians, dieticians & clinicians whose infamy is willfully willing

CHEMO- IS NOT THERAPEUTIC! Chemo- kills indiscriminately! Tumors are constructed to "wall off" propagating outcroppings of malignant-cell structures. Tumors "imprison" cancer with varying degrees of success. The immune system and cancer cells are electrostatically-charged negative. Like-charges repel, opposites attract. A fully-charged immune system CANNOT attack cancer, thankfully. If it could it (the immune system) would attack placental & pre-embryonic cells and the consequence of that would be: all mammalian pregnancies would be terminated by the immune system. Cancer (neo-plastic/neo-plasm = new life) and pregnancy (new life) are intricately linked. Susan G. Komen has supplanted the militancy & outrage of patients swindled by the allopathic cancer cartel (married monopolies) with adulation for oncological quacks who answer to no one. ALL vitamin-deficiency diseases were said (by allopathic "doctors") to run in families. Diets are familial, not chronic metabolic maladies. Cancer cells are indistinguishable from pre-embryonal cells. Cancer is a symptom of malnutrition. Divide and conquer is a precept of war. There are now hundreds of "cancers." Treatment strategies are customized & personalized. The cancer industry has created an "army" of clinicians, physicians & laboratorians to win "battles" against cancer. The cancer industry mounts "campaigns." Nixon declared "war" on cancer. Cancer-diseased women are "drafted" into breast cancer "boot-camps." Patients "fight" cancer heroically & bravely. The cancer industry has an "arsenal" of treatment options. Next year a new "weapon" against cancer will be unveiled. Several years ago the cancerocidal "gamma knife" was used on Patrick Swayze to "fortify" his "battle stratagem." Doctors, researchers & nurses of cancrology are "foot soldiers on the march" sworn to the selfless task of preventing, treating & curing a morass of dreadful cancerigenic diseases that plague modern man. Is no one safe?  B vitamins are water soluble. There's no known toxicity. Take your B17 with meals, along with zinc & pancreatic enzymes. B17 won't necessarily dissolve your tumors. B17 will **** the cancer cells within the tumors. The tumors will temporarily swell as these cancer cells die. Monitor your results with ***** analysis pregnancy tests (they work equally well for males). Positive test results = cancer (&/or pregnancy or faulty test result.). You can buy the tests at Dollar Tree for a buck (of course). B17 capsules come in 100 m.g., 250 m.g., 500 m.g. & 1,000 m.g.-strength doses. Once your cancer is eradicated (once you start turning out negative pregnancy tests) you can cut your dosage of B17 to as little as 100 m.g. per day as a maintenance dose. Meanwhile, eat the seeds of apples, watermelons. Eat leaf spinach, collard greens & mustard greens. B17 will stop the cancer process. B17 will not restore you to perfect health. Your tumors (or vestiges of tumors) may remain.

Slice off my lumps with lumpectomy as surgery's a draining feeling
till the lumps grow back after the lumpy period of cut-lump healing
that spills through cancer spillways with malignantic double billing
over soft Müllerian cysts by cancerogenic invoices to craft a killing
via vital nutrimental nutrient deficits ignored by crooked, squealing
medicians, dieticians & clinicians whose infamy is willfully willing

TREATING DEAD MEN LIKE FAMILY ingratiates morticians &
statisticians, assistants to quack physicians & staph-blind clinicians
***** hike gal gay traction with Michael J. Jackson who is for sale
during lactation class held over at a one-four-****-Jew-day fraction
'Tis acceptations that ravish your affectations, torn to soily rainbow
ribbons by gibbons holding their powdered, puckered, pouty lips in
Let me bask on the beaches that you have in your huge, smart brain
while I collect water that drips from your red livers like kidney rain
onto my sprained elbow that I got from a big poodle attack in Spain
among fraternal friends riding the Mongolian cyrillic-alphabet train
with a grace more so ephemeral than the not-so-livin' x-Sally Blane or ******-babblin' nitwit Douglas **** or a bludgeoned Bob Crane
in love with hippy-trippin,' dill-hole lickin,' leg-shakin' ankle sprain
in love with chapped-hole *******, mid-brain-shaking cranial strain
to confound German allopathical ****-strokers on Earth's still plane
that abounds in big-boobed broads bouncing on bumpily-flat terrain
so discovered Tarzan beneath the slutty gown of freckled-*** Jane
that had oozing, bull-whip welts & ****** bruises from a tow chain

95,000 Americans die annually from easily-preventable-hospital-borne-staph infections. Stop worshiping science's practitioners & clinicians.

Freedom of choice is the worst freedom from U.S. “homelessness”
Freedom of choice is another worst choice for local, homeless bliss
for shave-cream clinicians in quest of a new-wave-foam-guess mess
that won't extricate an imitative Elvis from shallow, toneless duress

As with inconveniently-located foster caretakers, I take care in refuge with a fostered passion that doesn't rip my trousers weft-wise. Things must exist along aclinic lines for the sake of clinicians.

Lots of expert opinions
from talented clinicians
and options to opt in
to the latest
webinar

we got this far
without them?

Everyone wants to chip in
with their sniping and their
bickering
like chickens at a **** fight
willing one of them to win.

I take it all with a pinch of salt
but keep my Navy Colt close by.