Depression dishes, depression dishes
I’m waiting for the moment of manic motivation
To move me
The pile is building like my stress and frustrations
A curious collection of mold and stains
In that one pot.
Like a pack rat within the dysfunctional comfort of its midden
I lie in wait
An awful smell wafts from the kitchen
An aroma concocted carefully with my unintentional alchemy
Even the silverfish have left my side.
Rigor mortis has set in
If you want to see me you’ll have to dig
through the mosaic of dishes my house has become.
God take this as my salvation
I repent for all my sins
Just not another dish.
About the Author
Katie Rose Stolte is a second-year creative writing student. She loves all types of writing but with a particular love for poetry, songwriting, anything horror/thriller, and short fiction.