All of our smiles fall short

Miss their mark.

You think you're so genuine,

So encapsulated by your

Inner joy.

Trust this

That I am telling you,

Your time will come,

Your demons will outrun

Your diligent race

To the center of your Soul.

Don't have any demons?

Well, don't worry,

I can change that for you soon enough.

Oh, no, it's no trouble,

In fact, I absolutely insist.

You need this gift ,

If you don't have it.

It's our birthright,

Our defining trait,

This agony, fear, terror, hate.

Our loneliness, insecurities, .Our OCD, our polarity shifting brains.

Our ache.

That ache, that ache, that ache.

The ache we smile with,

To let everyone else know it's okay,

So we can be left alone in our loneliness

To go on trying being human

Just one more day.

We learned together,

together we failed

and together we rose

until the end of our days

when our stories were old.

But, in that moment,

we were just kids,

sharing the gift of being friends.

This constant state to recreate

Dominates the majority

Of the human race.

But perhaps this is the way,

This constant striving, trying, reaching...

To just be,

That is the blissful way, yes,

And it holds sometimes, for a bit.

In my pangs of want,

I'll think, maybe I could do it better.

Make me better.

But I like surprises.

And I'm waiting to see

What I'll become.

When you said

“Sometimes I go there

only to look for you”

It surprised me and made me feel

unbelievably good

But perhaps a little skeptical too

That the presence (or absence)

of someone as ordinary as myself

would ever be noted

by someone as extraordinary as you

But as time went on

I learned that

though you are blunt

deceit is not your way

So I want you to know

that because you took the time

to share something so simple

It has made all the difference

in how I view myself

even to this day

Thank you

Between old and new

death and rebirth

Ego vs mind

shedding and growing

surviving and thriving

crying and laughing

smiling and numbing

old habits and new hobbies

dying and living

hoping and dreaming

Fantasy and reality

Wishing….

In between two worlds hoping it will collide into one

"To forgive

is to let go--

And I am like

the Terrier

in whose ear

we must blow;

That bite's

a myth,

you know...?

Like the grudge

it is said,

I am holding."

Mariah closes out what area_man opens, while anchored in the middle beetween is something from ModernAntigone that can only be described with words like addictive, gorgeous, seasoned... Just like the piece before and the piece after. From the finest dining to feed the arts, to the light blocked and two litanies of sorrowful flavor so deliciously dark and told with iron breath, to the sweet song of what has died on the vine, number 53 on Prose. Radio features three writers with something beautiful to say, no matter how we slice it

Here's the link to Prose. Radio.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpGJ5qRys8Q

And here are the featured pieces.

https://www.theprose.com/post/822012/blocking-the-light https://www.theprose.com/post/819551/litany-i-ii https://www.theprose.com/post/811664/loves-death

And.

As always.

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team