Prose
"BOUNDARIES & FAKE FRIENDS". Content Warning.
I wrote this, created this, edited this after being ditched by a former friend of many years. She joined the MAGA movement. I ditched her with this creation. I am a liberal progressive since I crawled out of my mama's uterus. Please subscribe on VOCAL & YOU TUBE. THANK YOU FOR READING.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
an ode to Christopher McCandless. Content Warning.
so, preface this poem with this scenario: i ended up sleeping in near freezing weather with my dogs last night. it was frigid, humbling, and a delightful honor. luckily, i had already lit a small fire with a dwindling torch and damp tinder, as well as unloaded my firewood, sleeping bag, a tarp, a pillow, my dogs, and eaten the wings i had just cooked before leaving i even managed to have my THC vape pen in hand, and left a[nother] lucky window cracked so i could hook my keys this morning... before i locked myself out of my car last night, about 50-60 miles from home.
By ⸘jason alan‽about a year ago in Poets
Soteriology
“Do you ever get tired of being the good person to which bad things happen?” “Tired, yes. Sick too. And I’m sick of being tired, and I’m tired of being sick. But I’m not ashamed. I decided long ago, I’d rather be sick and tired than ashamed, because as sick and tired as I am, when my head hits the pillow, I sleep like a baby, but when I did have cause for shame, I didn’t get a wink, and I felt like I was already dead, inside. I may come to grief on account of giving my life away to people who take advantage of me, but what kind of life would I live if I took advantage of others in turn? A life of shame and meaningless pleasure. We all die in the end, but we don’t all go on to a better place. Most of us keep coming back; and what I’m most sick and tired of is coming back.”
By C. Rommial Butlerabout a year ago in Poets
