Connoisseurs of the fine line:

To bang the gong for the end of our CotM series, here's a quick video highlighting the winner, and, like all the other pieces in this Challenge, it was seasoned and made for another tough call for the panel, as any one of these posts could have easily won.

With all the updates and upgrades in sight, continuing the Challenge of the Month wouldn't make sense like it has. That stated here, we're still bringing Challenges like these, only less scheduled, so we can expand the breath a bit.

A ton of talent keeps signing up here, and a ton of my time is spent in the minds of you writers, so thank you, and keep it coming. Never enough.

Here's the link for the video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYPWYjXOAu4

And.

As always...

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team

Smoky eve undressed screeching crimson winds

Blood moon swaying sinking curls brushing steel

Monoliths; bombers cruised bruised skies.

stars

Charged hypersonic fighter jets, plasma

Full of serenades, Dark Tower showered

Shallow shadows: world spit me out, fell back to

Entropy, pills, and pornography. Gaul

Heights center of gravity, what holds me up?

John Cowells watched nights collide, blue moon… rounds

Rolled in rusty cylinder, journals stacked

Up to Oblivion, quarter filled bourbon,

Taste never budging. He wrote the only

Girl he could imagine, one before Hellfire

Out in Dallas? Pink City? her my last

Care in this domed state. He wrote nights, lost

Days of sleep- an obsession driving him.

Stale UTOPIA night fell deep into

Lovestruck sheets; he cut empty gem pages

With diamond tipped pen, every word a moment

Closer to realities dictated by

A fairytale love. another parade

Of drones and Legion Rangers, surveillance

Swayed away a dwindling writer’s block;

Manic fist clenched shimmering inky dweller,

Stellar pilgrimage to ego death; she was

Out in New Navajo, galloping like

Josey Wales, battling giants, Major

Dick Winters amongst gory poppy fields:

An infinite war of love and hell. He

Wandered memories of his dear mother

Wrapping him before leaving for DC.

Dagger cut, hours venture to insanity.

The Machine crackled wicked vinyl pops,

Voltaic rhythm etched rigid landscapes

Against hole-punched walls, galactic shutters

Assail solar winds, warping time through borrowed

Sleep, tomorrow seeks today venture noble

One; Cowells peaked blinds divide; Interstellar

vacuum awoke him from his afternoon

Hibernation, depressants and valium:

Analog God silence suicidal

Idealogue, repent! repent! four walls

Judge closer, days wasted, hold on to what

You can't, soon she'll leave, love's reprieve. sorrow

Sweet, digitize for an hour or eight, just

Enough to make crickets chirp, shirts stay on

For weeks, showers optional, misery

Like a hawk swooping as I begin to stand.

Fade away Flower of Evil, burn! shrivel!

Before destruction

of Empire

Council carved Legions;

Became one

Under

Canvas skies.

My favorite mythological creature has to be the Phoenix. There's something undeniably captivating about this magnificent bird that rises from its own ashes, symbolizing renewal and transformation. As a human, I'm drawn to the Phoenix because its attributes resonate deeply with the human experience.

The idea of the Phoenix's immortality through rebirth is incredibly inspiring. It represents the eternal cycle of life, death, and resurrection, reminding us that even in our darkest moments, there is the potential for a fresh start. In a world where we face challenges and setbacks, the Phoenix serves as a beacon of hope, encouraging us to embrace change and grow from adversity.

Furthermore, the Phoenix's fiery nature is symbolic of passion and intensity. It's a reminder that in order to truly rise above our challenges, we must face them with a burning determination and a fierce spirit. The image of the Phoenix bursting into flames before its rebirth is a powerful symbol of the transformative power of adversity and the strength that can emerge from the ashes of our struggles.

The Phoenix's majestic plumage and radiant beauty also symbolize the idea that from destruction can come something even more magnificent. It teaches us to find beauty in impermanence and to appreciate the fleeting moments in life. Just as the Phoenix's feathers ignite in a brilliant blaze, we should strive to make our lives shine brightly with purpose and meaning.

So, the Phoenix appeals to me as a symbol of resilience, renewal, and the indomitable spirit of the human soul. Its attributes remind us that no matter how many times we fall, we have the potential to rise stronger, wiser, and more beautiful than ever before.

Hello, beautiful beasts of beats and lines.

Wish I could figure out a way to read every single profile at once, like breathe it all in. But, until that's made possible with some neuro-freak application, I'll just have to savor the words here like a real human. Speaking of which, here's a fast look at four writers, from whom I read and kept some good things to get me through the heat.

Here's the link.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q8YUN0F4Ung

And...

As always.

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team

I try to forgive. I try harder than I've ever tried, but my horrid twisted tiny heart stretches and groans with the attempt. I can conceal the past and speak like I am your daughter and not a shell of a woman with a heart glued together again and again from the scars of your words, but inwardly I hate myself for the deceit. I've always been good at hiding my feelings, so that you will never know my true thoughts as I smile and speak with the respect you earn as my mother. Maybe it is because I don't want to be like you, and the only way I can avoid the raging and the outbreaks of anger is by turning off all my emotions. You call me insensitive, but I am doing it so that I don't hurt anybody. I won't let them take control of me like you do. I would rather disperse them to the wind than let one boil up and explode against people I love, and even people I must try to love—like you.

Sometimes I think I have forgiven you, and then I applaud myself for finally having gotten over years of hurt. And then something happens—it's the little things, now, that's how bad it's gotten—and I tense and I remember and it hurts again. But I keep smiling and I keep answering you with the respect a daughter must give to her mother, and I don't let you know, because if I did it would open a cavern of anguish and pain and resentment. I would rather forget than remember. And that is why I must forgive, and keep on forgiving. And maybe someday I will be free of it enough to reply with truth that I love you back when you say you love me.

mascara stains on my pillowcase

love letters torn to shreds

memories set ablaze

clouds in the sky covering the moon

fog in the air blocking my view of you

forests and mountains in have come between us

and never have i ever felt so free

To truly know intimacy

To truly know affection

To know need

To know desire

To know concern

To know regard

Fearful yet fearless

Brave yet foolish

I know this is delicate

But I have never felt so certain

Of this fact

This fact…

That I am yours

According to my mom

Sending “Mixed Signals” is when you do everything BUT sex.

And

“Friends With Benefits” is the same as ’“Mixed Signals” just with sex.

That. Was. An. Awkward Conversation