The sun peaks in the afternoon;
Kissing your skin with its rays,
Wrapping its loving warmth around you.
The perfect song plays just when you need it;
Unleashing your passionate inner rock star,
Strumming your air guitar like it’s the real thing.
The problems of yesterday slowly melt away;
Allowing this moment to be that moment,
That feeling when…life is as it should be.
FI: Jacksonville Fine Art Photography
Rest in the Mourning by R.H. Sin
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
A wonderfully refreshing book of poems, that’ll help you understand, just how much you deserve… If you’re going through a rough time- these words will help you rebuild yourself &rediscover your self-worth… I highly recommend this book.
View all my reviews
Marching to the beat
No sounds, nor voices.
But I hear it.
Dull, nearly inaudible;
But I can hear it.
An evolving tempo:
Deepening the rumble.
Then, before long, something’s-
The world’s ambient noises fade;
All but the deafening percussion.
As it draws on your thoughts,
It grows louder &that’s when:
The beat hastens your breath,
The rumbling offsets your heart,
While amplifying- the need.
Observing the changes,
Your eyes close: darting back &forth,
You see it, no words, just actions;
Your heart quickens; adjusting…
Following the tempo in your mind.
It’s everywhere, it’s everything.
Moving your limbs,
Until there’s nothing left,
But your mind,
The growing tempo,
The liberating movements,
& it’s temporary freedom.
Within these walls, reside five individuals- a gathering of misfits minds: a troubled young soul, a tragically broken heart, a tuckered out body, a tumultuous voice &a tremulous existence.
This collection- handcrafted by pain, live’s its life like a moths to a flame. Living on a collision course with eruption, they’re being corrupted by emotion. Drowned out by a tumultuous voice &roughed up by a tired body, these individuals became soldiers.
These eruptions leave them broken, recovering from, what feels like irreparable damage. They’re setting the ground a flame &these flames… have ignited a war.
FI: Home by TheOnlyFallacy
Tossing &turning, comfort is elusive
Within the confines of her mind.
Aroused suddenly- alarmed;
Distress collects in beads,
Running down her forehead.
Daunted- Her dream fades,
Retreating to her subconscious.
Looking around: her bedroom;
A familiar place, albeit her feelings-
That create a dissociation.
These four walls are just that,
With the veil of home,
Lifting with each passing day,
She has reached a breaking point.
Though consciously unaware of her dream,
Its warning, now a distant memory;
She’s enticed by exhaustion’s whisper.
Silently struggling, within the confines of her mind:
She attempts to remember
The cause of her distress.
Though her mind, like a crossword without the clues,
Exceeds her capabilities in its clouded state.
Dream…or memory repressed,
She begins to drift,
Back into unconsciousness:
A state of suspended animation-
The rise &fall refreshes.
With each passing moment,
The spring air warms;
Each note, each beat of th drum-
The instrument within her chest-
Causes the panic to subside.
For what seems like-
The first time in ages-
Her lungs fill with hope.
Exhaling the negative,
She baskes in the her contentment.
Though the future is uncertain,
In this moment, she is,
&this moment is everything.
Sorry, I missed your update March 1st- but BOY, do I have an update for you- but don’t worry I’ll KISS it. (Keep It Short &Simple) 😅
I missed March’s update bc I traveled across Canada, I: moved from Alberta to Ontario, got a job in Sales &took control of my life.
What prompted the move? ☺️ I’m touched that you asked. 😜
I needed a change- I was tired of being afraid. My living/work situation in Jasper took a toll on my mind; it created a vortex that worsened my depression & overall mental health. I’d encountered a bully (at the age of 26, heh, go figure 🙄) who created an environment where I was afraid to leave my apartment. Where I worked, you get the lovely pleasure of living with the people you work with (smashing great idea 😒). So I left; I wasn’t happy with my job, nor the neglectful way they treated us- &as for the bully? Well… Bye Felicia. ✈️
Now? I’m happy, I’m making new friends &I’m taking control of my life.
There she was, laying motionless- watching her ceiling fan spin; wondering, “Is this what life is supposed to feel like?”
Her days had become repetitive &she felt like she was slowly losing touch- with what she wasn’t sure. But something didn’t feel right. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she loathed her parents for her life; forcing her to run in the human race. Run until her heart gives out, her legs collapse &her mind… her mind, as it plots against her, opposing its survival instincts. She was breathing all night, hoping it would eventually become halfway decent sleep.
Creative Writing about those nights, you know the ones I mean.
Mosquitoland by David Arnold
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
This book came to me, just in the knick of time. I felt like a prisoner: in my own head &in my everyday life. That is… until I met Mim. She helped me see that my quirks are precisely the things that make me special, not how well I fit into the norm. If you’re stuck in a rough spot, maybe Mim can help you too.
View My Profile