A freeform poem about my experience with depression.

Sunday morning—Brisk, cool air— Stirs the skin with a chill.Coffee, liquid warmth, Brown as the autumn leaves,Mixed spices wake the senses. The cat yawns as she stretches—Sinewy and slinky. Her green eyes, lazy but alert.Calm and quiet, This morning-time ritual,Peace before the storm.

Beware the woman who patiently waits...

Is there a reading version of a double take? I suppose instead of a turn of the head, it’s a flick of one’s eyes back over what they just read. It’s a jolt of familiarity, a sense of déjà vu. In that moment, you feel all your synapses light up, forming new connections of understanding. ...

Autumn is approaching, which means Halloween is lurking Chilly nights call for glowing fireplaces, creating illumination for spooky stories Colorful leaves begin to fall, revealing innumerable bony branches Fall’s vibrant beauty bestows, yet undertones of mystery arise Darkness comes sooner, providing a shroud for the undead

Waking moments often summonImages of brilliant color, andLoamy scents wafting in the breezeDay in and day out Floral hues decorate the sceneLaying out a painted pictureOpening hearts as it goesWarmth embracing us as we moveEnjoying the terrain laid outRoses and daffodilsSpring days are here

I have written nothing for any of my stories in a while. Writing took a slight backseat while I started learning about my mental health. My characters have still been wreaking havoc in my brain, but the doubts prevented me from writing my ideas on paper. Next, came the inevitable thoughts about not being a ...

Calm seas for a day and a half have turned rough without giving me notice. How must I prepare? I have no choice but to ride the storm. Rising, falling, and rising enough times will make me strong. How do I know this? This isn’t the first time, now is it? Once strong, I could ...

Omnichannel— It’s the new word. The buzz, the bee— Be everywhere— Omnipotent Omnipresent On every channel, every feed— Feed the algorithm Words— Not fruit. My mother gave me a Strawberry slicer On Easter Sunday— A terribly odd, Impractical gift. I smiled outwardly But cringed inside— It reminded me of my studies, My training, in marketing. ...

I’m awakened by the piercing sound of woeful screams The wind has stopped in recognition of a loss The sun has dimmed her smile in response to a man’s pain An exchange seems to have been made A soul has left a home And is being replaced by wondering and tears What is life? It’s ...