A Poem About You and Life.It begins with knowing nothing lasts forever. So you might as well start packing now. In the meantime, practice being alive. There will be a party where you’ll feel like nobody’s paying you attention or where attention’s all you’ll get. What you need to do is know how to talk to you in between the parties. there will be a day, where you won’t fit with your body even though you’re in the only body you’re in. You need to control your habit of forgetting to breathe. Remember when you were younger & you practiced kissing on your arm? You were on to something then. Sometimes harm knows its own healing comfort its own intelligence. Kindness too. It needs no reason. There is a you telling you a story of you. Listen. Where do you feel anxiety in your body? The chest? The fist? The dream before waking? The head that feels like it’s at the top of the swing or the clutch of gut like falling & falling & falling & falling It knows something: you’re dying. Try to stay alive. For now, touch yourself. I’m serious. Touch your self. Take your hand & place your hand some place upon your body. And listen to the community of madness that you are. You are such an interesting conversation. You belong here. By Pádraig Ó Tuama

A Poem About You and Life.It begins with knowing nothing lasts forever. So you might as well start packing now. In the meantime, practice being alive. There will be a party where you’ll feel like nobody’s paying you attention                      or  where attention’s all you’ll get. What you need to do is know how to talk to you in between the parties. there will be a day, where you won’t fit with your body even though you’re in the only body you’re in. You need to control your habit of forgetting to breathe. Remember when you were younger & you practiced kissing on your arm? You were on to something then. Sometimes harm knows its own healing comfort its own intelligence. Kindness too. It needs no reason. There is a you telling you a story of you. Listen. Where do you feel anxiety in your body? The chest? The fist? The dream before waking? The head that feels like it’s at the top of the swing or the clutch of gut like falling & falling & falling & falling It knows something: you’re dying. Try to stay alive. For now, touch yourself. I’m serious. Touch your self. Take your hand & place your hand some place upon your body. And listen to the community of madness that you are. You are such an interesting conversation. You belong here. By Pádraig Ó Tuama
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Doctors & Nurses: A Marriage Made In Exemplary Patient Care

Doctors & Nurses: A Marriage Made In Exemplary Patient Care

In my effort to expand access to information and products about sexuality and intimate health, I've been setting up "clinics within clinics." I have developed

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