The Love Drug

To many issues,
No magazines,
So many tissues,
For tragedies,
Love is a needle,
We aim where we please,
I guess that the issue
Is all our disease….

The Prosen One
Brain Station

I can’t sleep anymore,
The wheels spin so freely,
Tracks full from trains of thought speeding over them,
They crash so violently that passengers run from my eyes,
Down my cheeks the passengers flail,
Some make it the edge,
Though none will prevail,
I hate this station,
The tracks are all wrong,
I wont be happy until these trains are all gone,
Then the terminal will be silent
Maybe I will sleep then….

The Prosen One

Hello Writers Creed! Thank you for taking the time to read and possibly use my writing. I included both the writings and permalink since this is my first time submitting anything, I wanted to be sure it could be done easily…


I think it’s hilarious that if you talk about what good things you do, that it has some obscene ulterior motive.

I don’t give a shit “why” people do good things. They do it. 

If you see some other motive it is nothing other than projection and you should go look in the mirror at your own dirty reflection. — The Prosen One




She Was A Fucking Comet

She was a fucking comet speeding through the darkness!
Her tail so full of energy.
So fiery, so illuminating.
And she was going to crash in to me.
I could imagine our souls searing together.
The timing, it’s all in the timing.
Not even the vastness of space,
Nor the black hole that is my heart,
Can stop what the heavens have predestined!
And then it happened!
She had flown straight through my chest.
Filling the crater that is my heart.
She whispered,
“Let there be light!”
And I was a black hole no more….

The Prosen One