Prose

"SENSITIVITY ACT 4"
SENSITIVITY ACT 4 ACCORDINGLY, TO REALITIES love gives a sensitivity to people so that we can understand every situation
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
Addiction, Affliction
Scratchin' the ol' wound, by boredom, by habit. Not festering yet, no. Though unable to cicatrize; a familiar itch - nonsensical. The youngster's flesh, desecrated once yes, remains and will remain forever itchy, devoid of meaning. Bandaged countless times, diligently ignored, a thruce? Until the afternoon of the midweek; falling shadows of the rotting day, akin to a forgotten memory one tries to push away, fruitlessly. As if struck by a summerish fever, the hand moves, the hand creeps... Inevitable, hopeless, lost. Crawling in circle, over and over and over, back to the ol' fountain, where despite a strong will one always goes back to. The wound reopens, the bandage long lost in the wind. Moaning, scratchin' the ol' wound. Relief, overwhelming relief.. Nails, bloodied in red, a red inkling, a red ink, undeniable proof of indulgence. One washes it all away, in the pure fountain, the fountain of reason? Pink-ish, troubled. Bits of clots, a most reviled reflection. All around, the inescapable noise of the water, splashing, and the itch, the itch, the itch... ''Is change impossible? Cursed, forsaken, Mad?'' Perhaps the wound is all there truly is. Everything else, mere spectacle; distractions, an interlude, a pause yes, until one scratches madly, entire mind and body focused on the familiar, on the so familiar pain, this tingle, and throwing away, out of the window, one's will; shrinking to a laughable speck, dust of dust, long lost in the wind as well. The hilarious thing, the uproaring thing is that it matters not whether one indulges or not. ''It does not matter!'' One shouts, blood everywhere, a whole mess, fountain of blood. One's face, crimson and primal, stuck in a frightful expression. And covering the splashing of the water, a maniacal laughter, echoeing in the white void that surrounds all.
By YonathanJabout a year ago in Poets
Forged
She climbed up the rungs He'd coated with shards of the shattered glass house his stones had broken rung by rung
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
Whispers of the Invisible: A Poem of Silent Echoes. AI-Generated.
Whispers of the Invisible: A Poem of Silent Echoes In the corners of bustling streets, She glides, unseen, a whisper Among the shouts of hurried feet,
By inspirational poems about a year ago in Poets
Generational Trauma
I have my mother's nose. It's perfectly built for sniffing out all the bullshit Yet the brain she gave me isn't equipped for doing a single thing about it.
By Faye Lockabout a year ago in Poets
Veiled Whispers: The Enigma of the Invisible Girl. AI-Generated.
Veiled Whispers: The Enigma of the Invisible Girl In realms unseen, a silent war, A girl confronts what lies in store. A heavy heart, a weary soul,
By inspirational poems about a year ago in Poets
Calm, Simple Night
Space holds a deep place in my heart. Its chaotic but organized structure appeals to a part of me that likes a balanced mess and, in a way, brings me comfort that I can't find anywhere else—like a soul-binding reassurance that's been with me ever since the universe made itself known.
By Rachael Anraabout a year ago in Poets
"FRIENDSHIP DETERIORATED". Content Warning.
I wrote this prose, this poem, these lyrics in Word. I feel these thoughts, these words that I typed into Word today fit into so many scenarios of life in 2024. Divide & conquer is the foundation for controlling men to take over lives of humans. Families and friendships of many years are split apart as the division between truth & lies has become a blurred reality. My friend chose the pillars of mind control of the faux lies of the orange buffoon. I choose light, freedom, and conquering fear to promote unity in America.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
The Trauma Bonds of Womanhood
I think I would be less insecure if I were married to a woman Because that would mean being with someone who was traumatized by men, too
By Faye Lockabout a year ago in Poets
"POWER & LOVE". Content Warning.
You are the captain of my heart. You rule me. You make me feel free. You are the fire in my soul. You light up my way.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
Starlight
Starlit moments caught in the breeze are filled with the echoes of memories captured in the dark, where only the moon can see.
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
Falling
When a moment feels like forever and goodbye an eternity when a touch feels like a heartbeat and time both ally and enemy
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets