Prose Community

Confessional Prose

I would write when my soul commands me. So I write again. Days feel like eternity. As familiar as I am with the pattern, it just occurs—with the same magnitude, the same chaos, the same crisis. But my mind reaches beyond today, yet it cannot carry two heavy weights at once. The present is killing... read more

The Vivid Black

A man sits facing the blank canvas. Black is the most vivid of colors. Art is still created in numerous, limitless ways with the color black. The appearance of any other color without a proper place on the canvas is considered a stain. And black becomes the cleaner of stains. Black acquires a... read more

The Fault You

Its obvious clearly, you can't force attraction you can't force affection to the one who already decide. They already have a picture in their mind mere perception of you. Though however untrue it is however far away from it from the real you, they persist blindly to stick that false... (edited) read more

How I feel

Somebody asked how I'm feeling these days, and I actually feel like I've been moving from page to page, where usually each page I go through is ripped right after. How I feel is like there were pages not ripped but flipped past. You need to move forward to continue reading, but you look back as... read more

Speed of time

Time was never fast, but you realize how much you need to catch up with it. What is constant in pace will outlast the inconsistent. There were never new hours in the day nor an additional second in a minute. Perhaps the thought of believing that time moves fast is the truest expression of our... read more

Untitled

Writing the words bear some concrete meaning that scares what is experimental. Words organized in a way that it is aesthetically pleasing to read than understood. But words organized in this way still produce meaning and fulfil their purpose. That is wonderful, because it describes the elements,... read more