Non-Fiction Prose by New Members

It seems to be a "pick me" generation.
Soft words on lonely ears, giving way to temptation.
Bended weak knees, handing over beautiful flowers.
Begging for love in the midst of cold showers.
Don't you know your worth, don't you know your strength?
Men are to be leaders not simps in the ranks.
Even if you are lonely, don't let your heart be torn, a real man should be loved, not just a prisoner of war.

In green forests of solitude and isolation
When thoughts were so hard to get on
A tree, glistening, raining
Silently, in the dark
Sunlight captures it
Framing beauty
into essence privately seen
In those mere moments
Tempted to defy it,
In worlds that have seemed so cruel
In green forests of solitude and isolation

I’m twelve hours ahead of the whole fucking cluster-fuck and tonight I’m was feeling a bit knackered. I stare at the ceiling listening to my music. Something in it, earthy and electronic, tells me everything is alright. It doesn’t make sense, it just makes me think that. That’s all I need tonight, and any night. Neither is there sense in who we just elected but that’s OK too. It’s going to have to be OK. The inconvenient truth in this liminal cycle for all of us is that no one has a crystal ball.

Like the train, they come, they stay for a term or two and then they go… until one...