8 Ergebnisse.

Stay Out of the Garden Welcome to the garden. Here we poison our fruits, pierce ourselves with thorns, and transform under the light of the full moon. Mad and unhinged, we fall through rabbit holes, walk willingly into fairy rings, and dance in the song of witchcraft, two snakes around our ankles, the juice of berries on our tongues.Inspired by Shirley Jackson's We Have Always Lived in the Castle, these poems are meditations on female rage, p...

Keine Beschreibung.

Doomsday is here and the earth is suffering with each breath she takes. Whether it's from the nuclear meltdown, the wrath of the Four Horsemen, a war with technology, or a consequence of our relationship with the planet, humanity is left buried and hiding, our bones exposed, our hearts beating somewhere in our freshly slit throats.The Apocalyptic Mannequin by Stephanie M. Wytovich is a collection that strips away civilization and throws reader...

Roll the windows down, wipe the blood off your cheek, and turn the music up. Sheet Music to My Acoustic Nightmare by Stephanie M. Wytovich is a collection spattered with dirt and blood, sage and corpses. The poems inside are confessionals and dirges, their stories the careful banter of ghosts and sinners over tequila at the bar.These pages hold the lyrics to the beautiful grotesque that Wytovich is known for, but here she writes with a raw hon...

Asylums once used to confine those deemed mentally unfit linger, forgotten behind trees or urban development, beautiful yet desolate in their decay. Within them festers something far more unnerving than unlit corners or unexplained noises: the case files left to moulder out of sight, out of conscience. Stephanie M. Wytovich forces your hands upon these crumbling, warped binders and exposes your mind to every taboo misfortune experienced by the...

Mourning is the new black... The tradition of Victorian mourning jewelry began with Queen Victoria after the death of her husband, Prince Albert. Without photography, mementos of personal remembrance were used to honor the dead so that their loved ones could commemorate their memory and keep their spirits close. Ashes were placed within rings, and necklaces were made out of hair, and the concept of death photography, small portraitures of t...

Love is an exorcism of angels... Heaven and Hell are not places, nor times, but rather shared experiences. It's a love whether dark or light, a passion whether of pleasure or pain, and there's a beauty to the ugliness, a smile hidden amongst the tears. Heaven is often defined as paradise, Hell as damnation. The two, while opposites, more often than not, end up being one and the same, especially when it comes to falling in love. So what h...

Wytovich plays madam in a collection of erotic horror that challenges the philosophical connection between death and orgasm. There's a striptease that happens in Brothel that is neither fact nor fiction, fantasy nor memory. It is a dance of eroticism, of death and decay. The human body becomes a service station for pain, for pleasure, for the lonely, the confused. Sexuality is hung on the door, and the act of love is far from anything that's d...