Hello, writers and dear readers,

Below is a link to our new video, featuring four Prose. staples and a new writer!

Here's the link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnP676dYLqc

And, as always...........

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team

In my delusion, the world I see, splits at the seams, as I walk into a surreal existence. Where I’ve come to realize that I’m suffering from maggots of the mind. They are slowly consuming the psychological scars of my sanity. Enticing my thoughts to sojourn on the pain that echoes from unfettered vibrations of madness. They threaten to shatter the last shards of reality in my primordial mind, pushing me to the edge of the abyss. Incomprehensibly, I step into the void of insanity.

Hello, writers and dear readers:

We are proud to post our first audio from a writer on Prose. on the channel!

Here it is!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLW4c_XVnP4

And, as always, thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team

Madness, delirium

illusions of life

escaping insanity

unrelenting strife

Sipped my tea

what did I see?

nothing but failure

and futility

Pulled my eyes out

still I cry

let go of my soul

still I can’t die

Tattooed butterflies

chewing on an apple

a hopeless man

burning the chapel

This life is so

full of pain

never sunny

always rain

On the Ship of Fools

one had no choice

a whisper in echoes

can chasten your voice

The stars glittered above my head like shattered glass sprinkled over the heavens, providing the only light my soul could bear for miles and miles. I had strayed far away from camp, unable to take in the lively music and dancing fire, the smiling faces of comrades and kin. The lonely night made a much more understanding companion.

I let the wind whip at my bare shoulders and neck, content to shiver in its embrace. The grass tickled at my feet, the occasional rock burying its head into my soles, the dirt caking itself onto my skin. I sighed, happy to know I could still feel, and that I made some sort of impact on the world.

There was no moon to cast so many shadows; instead the world was one giant shadow, and I was in its depths, skulking. A hoot owl made known its presence off in the branches to my right. I silently nodded to it, like an affirmation that I was not in charge of this nighttime domain. I was merely a guest in his kingdom, a traveler passing by to nowhere in particular. To my left a snake slithered hurriedly through the tall grass, he traveling just as I. In my mind I pictured a toe sack hitched over his shoulder, bunched up in a wad, as he marched low to the ground, a hobo with no place to go, and I allowed a faint smile to ghost its way across my lips.

The night air smelled of moss and dirt, and of nature, untouched by civilization. Cicadas roared their symphony, their timbre changing slightly as the owl surely picked down performers one by one.

And I walked, my feet carrying me where I pleased, down the hill, through the briars, up the rocks and boulders, through the stream which bogged me down to my knees. For the first time, I was not running from anything, nor toward anything. I walked to walk, alone to be alone, pensive, melancholy, severe, wandering, but not lost.

A sigh found its way from my lungs and rode the cool midnight air in a cloud of fog, drifting over the tops of the trees and losing itself among the stars. It was here that I became one with his majesty, the mountain woods, the sand, the pebbles, the thorns, the land without a path. I melded into the night, a wanderer without a cause.

I’m dying with the cowards

I’m dying with the heroes

and rapists

I’m dying with the barflies

and the sinners

I’m dying with you

we’re dying together

I’m dying with my dog

I’m dying with all the actors

and playwrights

I’m dying with the guitarists

and the painters

I’m dying with your people

my people

I’m dying with the cities and towns and countries

and skies

I’m dying with the warthog

and the Siamese fighting fish

I’m dying with the rivers and mountains

and music

I’m dying with everything natural

like I should

I’m dying with the flower, the pastry chef, the old men behind

the counters

I’m dying with millionaires and welfare getters

I’m dying with the children

and parks and playgrounds

I’m dying with famed athletes

I’m dying with animated voices from cartoons

I’m dying with designers and congress

I’m dying with science

and religion

I’m dying,

with

and without you.