I was born; happily, I am here, still alive to write for you, fellow Readers.

I live in Ukraine. We struggle, and I must assure you, this is not going to stop. Fighting for freedom is too much in human nature, it seems, to stop in the middle of fighting.

Now a few more words about me. I write for challenges only, being too idle to challenge myself; that means I must thank fellows who post challeges for introducing my into the world of writing.

Thus, thank you, everybody!

She doesn't want to see

people

on the weekend

only her

cat

She gets drunk by herself

and then rummages through

her books

and reads the last pages

of several romance novels

and starts crying

When she cries

she holds the

cat's head like

a goblet

and clasps its ears with

her lips

and sucks on them,

making the poor

animal uncomfortable

And if the cat

runs away

she gets really sad

She writes positive

affirmations on

pieces of paper she

rips from

books

GOD IS MY SUPPLY OF LOVE

IN GOD'S NAME, I AM LOVE

THERE IS ONLY LOVE

LOVING ITSELF

AND THAT'S ALL THERE IS

then she eats the

papers

or crumples and

shoves them

deep between her

legs,

strengthening her faith

in the power of

the word

eventually she

falls asleep

and dreams of an

umbilical cord floating

through space,

seeking to wrap itself

around a planet shaped as

a baby's head,

wanting to strangle, to

crush it

but it never

succeeds

Eventually she awakens

and starts

writing poems

***

INSTAGRAM:

https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/

I can see it

clearly

even though the napkin is

folded and crumpled

around the small things

it covers,

I can see on it

a drawing of a dragon

with flowers for horns

it pokes its

forked tongue at me

and winks

also its eyes

have long lashes

“You listening?” she says

shaking the

fist that holds the

napkin

I can no longer see

the dragon drawn

on it

“What?”

I say

She proceeds to open the

napkin and

reveals a few small, white

pills.

“Forget what they taught

you in school. Despite

all they said,

the nerve cells of the brain

can actually be regenerated.

It's been proven.

An' you can do it

with these here beauties.

C'mon, take one.”

“What?” I said. “I didn't

know my nerve cells

are damaged.”

“That's because your

nerve cells

are damaged,” she said

“Damn...”

“No, seriously. They have to

be. It's because you

spent so many nights

awake. That shit

kills neurons more than smoking,

drinking, and hard drugs

combined. You

probably have just

a handful left.”

“Damn...”

And she asked, “What's

47x6?”

“I don't know.”

“What did I ask you

two questions ago?”

“Shit, I can't remember.”

“Do you even care?”

“Nope. Not really.”

“Your brain's a graveyard

of neurons, boy.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“D'you still write?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it's really that

bad.

Take one of those

pills. Here.”

She grabbed one with her

fingers yellowed

from cigarette smoke

and handed it to me

Perhaps the fact that I

took it proves

I've not that many

brain cells left. I don't

know.

I don't know why

they're so

important in the first

place

Honestly,

at this point all I'm

worried about

is losing soul cells

Now that would

be a tragedy

But the wink of the drawn

dragon from

the napkin

proved I wasn't quite

there yet

Thank God

***

INSTAGRAM:

https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/

THIS POEM READ IN MY VOICE:

https://soundcloud.com/user-937736610/soul-cells

i

Look at the Monsters.

the Monsters

Look at me.

I imagine that they are

afraid;

terrified

Of Me.

Because I will Answer them.

Or Step on them.

Or Love them.

Or Believe in them.

There are a whole slew of

catastrophes

that might happen.

Might knock them out of

their Mind

and into

Their Senses.

Hello, Writers and Dear Readers.

In today's vid on the channel, we dive into two beautiful minds.

Authors are tagged in the comments. Here's the link!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHt_uKfec3w

And.

As always.

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team

She lied to herself

Until it became truth.

Bottled up the rage

Pretended she wasn't deranged...

But words on twisted tongues

have an insidious way

Of exposing themselves

When one least expects it.

She lies

Justifies

In her reflection

Stares into the hollow sockets

Of her tunnel vision.

Tries to find something

In her eyes,

That resembles anything familiar

Or human.

Searches for the secrets

Buried in the deep.

The gridlock sets in,

The iron gate lowers itself,

And the chance is gone

To know herself.

Boundaries sets in place,

An invisible barometer guages

The danger of the pressure.

The self professed

ruling elite

The Lords are chosen

Handpicked

By the existing ones

behind closed doors

They crave power

Control of the masses

Proletariat subjugation

Conquerers

Silent assassins

and subduers

for their Overlords

We must beware

of the Lords

they create

tedious problems

on the edge

of absurdity

as chaos becomes

the new normal

In this background

the Lords

pull the strings

guiding one way

pushing another

playing both sides

of a conflict

Good or evil

matters not

to the Lords

they invest heavily

on both sides

regardless of who loses

the Lords win

They have decided

that the old laws

are obsolete

and the new laws

shall commence

immediately

out of the ether

of political discontent

Liberty is detrimental

to the tyrannical Lords

obedience is necessary

in order not to upset

the new status quo

the Lords have made

As of now

questioning their decisions

will be construed

a treasonous offense

and the Lords

will be ruthless

in their dispensing

of punishment

to those who

would dare

disobey

Please don't send me

Flowers.

Send me memories

That feel like

the look of steel trash cans

Beneath florescent lights,

with that little streak

Of shine.

Always moving

towards you Like

The eyes of some

Fuckin haunted painting.

Or the notion

Of strippers

Beneath spotlights aimed

By untrained hands,

Just catching

Shadows

Of what you don't know

You missed.

Because the focus

Is shit.

Delayed Like appreciation

Often is.

And I always seem to miss

The things I almost saw.

Maybe that's life.

You only ever

Comprehend the ass

Jiggling

Towards the curtain

As dreams unrealized

Walk away,

Finished and empty

To the sound of applause.

Like the best tits

You never saw

And wish you remembered

But don't ,

But still brag about

Because no one

will ever know

The difference.

Like these

Stainless memories

Framed by charcoal regrets.

So please

Don't send me flowers.

Send me a trash can

To hold the remains.

The half wilted moments

Between inspiration

And oblivion.

I think they call it life

Or some shit.

Life is a Beast

Against

this thin

ribcage

It beats;

checking

every

orifice

for Its

release!

I keep

my lashes

tapped down

like blinds

as a

Safety:

Its, yours

and mine.

Life is a beast

oh how

It beats

with wants,

with needs;

It's tied

to my

fingers

and toes,

with red

bloodied

leads;

I breathe

in and

try to

call out,

call It

by Name

and It

surely

harks back

to Me

Social

animal

that It

portends

to be;

Not as

house guest

but as

full

Veto

member

Life is a Beast

It pounds

Its fists

at the

Temple

and how

head and

heart aches

with all

It seeks,

and then

Negates.

28 JAN 2023

The fabric of space

And time

It bends

Around the weight

The desire, the need

The obsession

If the Universe is consciousness

And will makes it so

Then this craving...

This...need

This, maddening desire

It falls into you

Every time

'Till death

'Round the sun I'll go

To you I shall return

Down

Down...

Into the core

Oblivion