I'm on death row because the government wanted me there

Convicted without evidence

Guilty of conspiracy--a trick used when no evidence exists

I alone was convicted

Only one person conspiring? With who?

No, guilty of conspiracy by me and one-or-more-unnamed conspirators

Yes, that's a thing

Appeals judged in the light most favorable to the government

Of course! Fence-sitters beware

They'll get you if they want you

If you're charged, it's not

--Innocent till proven guilty, nor

--Guilty till proven innocent--it's just

--Guilty--so, forget the rest

I will die as collateral damage

Of someone's populist agenda

And will help my murderers

Get elected

And reap the love and admiration

Of those who label problems with a myopiscope

Allowing detritus like me to fall through invented cracks of connivance

A like without a read is a box without the chocolates. It's the froth on a milkshake. A kiss blown from the other side of the street. Am I guilty of such false love? Of ticking boxes without bothering to read more than the first few lines? Of course. The little heart looks so much nicer when coloured in, don't you think? A like is my smiley face stamp on the back of your hand for fitting at least one of your yellow plastic pieces through the correct and corresponding shaped hole. It might be considered as damning with faint praise, but then...

how many of you have actually bothered to read this?

Love that s(mothers) you--does so--by denying inspi(ration)

The sum less than the adding of the al(locations)

Which goes beyond ex(changing) put-on airs

Having no inspi(ration) to create--or pro(create)--theirs

A s(mothering) love causes only stale air ex(change)

To(get)(her) or not--it's false and e(strang)ed

Until you can('t) take it any(more), sur(render) to the fire

And give up on venting and s(imply) ex(pyre)

'Twas my first day

I was shy, cute and nervous

Though it wasn't hard to see you from faraway

Fifteen minutes left, but I was still anxious

Finally, the bell chimes

All in the class including you, smiles

My heart hammers within my chest

Only you can put it to rest

All I wanted was to be more than a friend

But all I got was to see your very grisly end

The coward in me couldn't ask you to stay

Perhaps that way, I could've kept death at bay

I thought I was the only one to desire you

But the Grim Reaper had other plans too

Here we are, wearing clothes of ebony

Gazing at your epitaph is more than agony

I could've given you the gardenias you so admired

Perhaps a secret gift to get you all fired

I did not get a chance

To tell you how special you were at first glance

But then the rumors say that you

Had most likely loved me too

My heart hammers within my chest

But even in death, only you can put it to rest

But your love is sufficient

Because lately I feel less reticent

I feel it spreading like poison in my veins

I'm dancing while it rains

Tears of joy and pain

How I would to see you again

But for you I'll be happy

Because I have your love blooming inside me

The woman who doesn't know she's beautiful. Her outfits are always described in some sort of sexual/erotic way - how her dress hugs her hips, she bites her lips and laughs, her eyes dancing. The majority of the time it's women's outfits described, and I could not care less what the character is wearing.

There’s a silence

at dawn,

when half the world’s asleep.

A firebird,

hangs just above the horizon.

A blue Jay gathers her nest

into a twig-wrapped bowl

to hold a future hawks breakfast.

A bass breaches

the lung dimension,

treading the waters

of unexplored places,

skipping across Lilly pads,

and pipedreams

then disappears back into

a shallow grave

for an unlearned kid.

Either this is a peaceful start

to a beautiful day,

or it's the calm before the storm.

Only time will tell.

Hello, Writers and Dear Readers.

Happy Saturday, fam. In today's video, we lazily cast a net into the the waters of Prose., and reel in a haul refulgent with beautiful brains of madness and gorgeousness. Just a mellow morning of reading these greats with coffee and the hum of possiblity.

There is nothing finer.

Featured and flounced before you, and waiting at the end of this sentence, is the link to the channel.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=horH5hzrBmI

And.

As always.

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team

I am a stitch in a swatch of people

Hush whispering, wheels rolling, walls humming

The bus's lights glow dozing blue and dull

The liminal sings through rhythmic drumming

A man in dirt-caked cargos strums his bass

A woman wearing cleavage cries quietly

The endless strings of souls I can't amass

An archive of loves and lives lost to me

A bloodless voice from speakers above

A boy flees past the doors onto concrete

Never will I see his worn face hereof

The basses strings simmer beneath my feet

Heavy eyes; brush of a bony shoulder

Listerine and cleat cheese down the corner

.the bewitching.

what am i supposed to do with you

where do i put you

where do you belong

something so nice

something so wonderful

something so much

something so good

scary happy

scary spellbound

have i been bewitched

have i been tricked

are you my curse

come to take me away

so slowly sinking

so sad and undone

so fucking wrapped up

spellbound and dying

i’ve been bewitched by your january

it’s all fires and flames

it’s all smoke and no shame

i don’t care if it’s a trick

i’m scary spellbound and dying

i know you’re here to take me away

violence

sadness

and some more of both

led me down a path

i never thought i'd go

comment after comment

some praise, some funny

to think i'd do all this work

and not care if i made money

to balance around school

to make sure that i write

but to work on what I love

always feels just right

to type out all my fears

and fantasies, and tears

my deep dark thoughts

that i hide from everyone else

i can show them off here

like a game of show and tell

so 100 posts later

and then 100 posts more

i'll keep writing the sadness

and horror, and gore

and so much more