#acewritesshittyprose

[thecouncilofidiots]

__Echo__ (Shitty Prose pt 9 (May 7, 2024))

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Where did you all go?

Echoing chambers

Footsteps

Water dripping from stalactites-

Is there any one else here?

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The warmth is not warm

When you're not there.

The shadows of home

Tear at flesh and reek of decay.

I am tired.

I am afraid.

I am alone.

Please come back.

Please come back.

I am alone.

I am afraid.

I am so tired.

[thecouncilacesideblog]

__De__ Shitty Prose pt ??

Drift-y

Float-y

Realit-y

I am me

I am here

(Who am I?)

(Where is here?)

Pain in the knee

(Knee?)

Pain in...

(Pain?)

Nothing's real.

Everything's real?

What is real?

I'm not.

I am?

Drift-y

Who?

[thecouncilofidiots]

I may not be the best cook

but I can remember

that you hate bitter coffees.

I may not be the best cook

but I know tea lattes are

a comfort drink now.

I may not be the best cook

but I can make your favorite drinks

and hold you close as you sip them.

[thecouncilofidiots]

HUMAN // Ace - Oct 28, 2024

I'm sorry that I'm not good at being a person

I don't feel real most of the time

I'm sorry I struggle with basic living tasks

I don't know how to be alive...

It's not to hard to imagine being me

Just think of yourself as smoke and shadows

Insubstantial, wispy, drifting through the air

Always around, never real - just a thought barely there

I don't know why I'm like this

Whether it's the DID, DPDR, psychosis

Or maybe some other thing altogether

Maybe I really am just a ghost wearing a suit of flesh

I'm sorry I seek you out too much

You make me feel alive

I'm sorry I cling to you so tightly

Your warmth feels solid against me

I'm not good at being a person

I don't feel human, or even alive most of the time

I promise I'm trying to exist

I want to exist, I want to be real, I want to be alive

I just don't know how

[thecouncilofidiots]

__Chess__ (Shitty Prose pt 10 (undated))

I am a Pawn.

The smallest piece,

With minor movements.

Not as useful as

The rook, knight, bishop.

Not as important as

The king, the queen.

The first to be sacrificed,

The last to be cared for.

I am a Pawn.

[thecouncilofidiots]

__HeadWounds__ (Shitty Prose pt 8 01/24/2024)

Sometimes

You want to

Slam your head

Against a wall.

Other times, you

Trace the blood

Dripping down and

Realize

You already did.

[thecouncilofidiots]

__Mirror__ (Shitty Prose pt 7, feat Being Unmedicated and Blurry) (12/18/2023)

Fractured, shattered glass-

Tens, hundreds, thousands of pieces, each reflecting a different part of a whole.

But what is a whole?

Wholeness implies completeness, solidity.

How can a broken mirror be whole?

Even when you align all the pieces, the tens, hundreds, thousands of pieces, you still see the cracks.

Even when whole, it's isn't ever whole again.

We look in the mirror and see a warped reflection in turn.

[thecouncilofidiots]

__Author__ (Shitty Prose pt 6, feat Being Unmedicated and Blurry) (12/17/2023)

I write because words make sense.

Like puzzle pieces slotting together to make a picture.

Emotions are harder.

They're messy.

Convoluted.

I write because I crave control over the uncontrollable.

After all, if they're nothing more than words on a page, they can't hurt me right?

...

......

...Right?

[thecouncilofidiots]

__Waves__ (Shitty Prose pt 5, feat Being Unmedicated and Blurry) (12/17/2023)

Crashing

Rising

Falling

Does the cycle ever end?

Empty, hollow

Emotions carve their way out of our chest.

Shaking, nausea

The body fights against existence.

I remember peace, if peace was ever a thing.

I remember safety, if safety was ever a thing.

I don't remember if they were ever truly a thing.

We were poisoned with healing.

Healing took the pain away.

Healing showed us peace and safety.

Which makes it hurt worse to

Crash

Rise

and Fall.

[thecouncilofidiots]

__Burn__ (Shitty Prose pt 4) (12/11/2023)

People always ask about my fascination with fire.

"It's dangerous", "It's criminal", "It's insane".

But they never ask why.

They never ask why a young child would want to watch the world burn.

I can still feel his touch sometimes.

I still wish to be set ablaze so that I feel nothing at all sometimes.

"You're dangerous", "You're criminal", "You're insane".

No.

I am angry.

And sometimes...

Just sometimes...

I want to watch the world burn.

But I can't.

So I bite my tongue.

I put away my matches.

And I have a fascination with fire.

[thecouncilofidiots]

__Hurt__ (Shitty Prose pt 3, feat Blurriness and Dissociation) (11/16/2023)

Some people are meant to hurt.

I refuse to believe that is true.

To hurt means you have the chance to heal, no?

I thought I healed.

I did heal.

So why do I still hurt?

Healing isn't linear, trauma doesn't truly dissappear; I know this.

I faced my pain and came out the other side swinging.

I didn't hurt.

Not for a long time.

Today hurts.

Today hurts a lot.

All those old scars are throbbing, and I'm in so much pain I can't tell if I'm bleeding.

Am I a masochist? Scratching at phantom pain?

Am I just meant to hurt?

[thecouncilofidiots]

__Puppet__ (Shitty Prose pt 2) (11/09/2023)

What does it mean to be alive?

What does it mean to live?

Why is there a difference when all we are are ghosts haunting the present?

The past creates us, the present shapes us, but the future?

The future doesn't want us, yet we fight for every second, tearing the seams apart.

Stringless puppets looking for something more.

Wood and clay and yarn, held together by memories and self.

But what is self if not a revolving door of what is and what could be?

Meaning dances across the stage, tangled up in endless strings.

Connections.

Yet all it takes is one set of shears to snip it all away.

[thecouncilofidiots]

__Red__ (Shitty Prose pt 1) (11/08/2023)

I used to think I'd rather feel pain than nothing.

Pain is sharp, bright.

It reminds me that I am alive.

The nothingness that consumed me wasn't the weight of a blanket, there was no comfort; it was a gaping maw of empty.

I drowned in the void.

At least if I felt pain, I was feeling.

And if I was feeling I could feel better.

There wasn't a better for a long time.

It was anger and pain that drove me, red in its intensity, enough to burn me up, but it was warm.

Alive.

I used to think I'd rather feel pain than nothing.

But now I am tired.

The beautiful red that I craved is gone, but there's no shadows anymore.

Nowhere to hide, no dark.

I miss the quiet.