In anemic autumn,
breath — a sickle sickness prints
and clots with little death:
a tear-trickled lacing
rot in sentenced gloom,
choking on the fags:
doomed to tint with gray
she dreams in stills.
Living on the equator but longing for snow
Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
A journey through the seasons with two adopted whippets, a poet and a camera
Hoping to inspire the world one word at a time.
2 years, mental illness, bucketlist
Meditations from the Midwest
FICTION by J Teal