Poems

Hell’s Heir Born into chaos, a legacy sealed.Raised in the fire, the blood I’ve spilled.No escape from the curse in my veins.I’ve inherited pain, inherited chains. The devil’s son, a shadow in the light,walking through darkness, craving the fight.Every step I take, it pulls me in deeper.The fire in my soul burns brighter and cheaper. […]

Monday’s Ghost Clock hits six and the world turns gray.Alarm screaming murder at the start of my day.Cheap coffee scalds the hole in my lip.I stare at the mirror, can’t remember shit. My tie’s too tight, my eyes are sore.Boss barking orders I’ve heard before.There’s a ringing in my head that won’t let go.Sounds like

Graveyard Kiss Beneath the moonlight, I see her face,a lover’s ghost, with a cold embrace.Her lips are pale, her touch is death,a graveyard kiss, with every breath. Her eyes are hollow, but I can’t resist,a forbidden touch, in the fog and mist.She pulls me close, I feel her heat,a lover’s curse, in death’s heartbeat. We

Graveyard Reprise Six feet of clay, maggots in my grin,the soil remembers every scream I’ve pinned.Blood thick as secrets, black under the tongue,I claw from the dirt when the warnings are sung. Legends are cowards, hiding behind locks.I’m the sick little voice that laughs when the heartbeat stops.My shadow’s a rumor that lives in the

Graveglass Lullaby The windows wake before the house does, skin of the night gone white and brittle, every pane wearing a mask of frost that looks delicate from across the room and sharp enough to fillet a pulse if you lean in too close.Outside, the streetlamp presses its tired glow against the glass like a

Graveyard Fashion Show Marble runway glitters under phosphorus moon,coffin-lid catwalk creaks a rattling tune.Models stitch their rib-cage corsets tight with sighs,graveyard fashion show sells afterlife disguise. Shovel-flash photographers blind the tombstone rows,skull-capped designers fit the maggots in repose.Eyeball brooches glitter, spinal necklaces swing,funeral-home fragrances embalming everything. Step right up—graveyard fashion show.Silk-lined boxes spotlight bones that

Grave Dancer In the cemetery of lost time,where passions rise from shadows cast,lust ain’t no specter in this rhyme,it’s a force that’s built to last. No fear in the dark we claim,embracing drives that burn within.From the earth, our primal flame,we rise, igniting life again. Tombstones murmur secret lore,of fervent love and fire bright.In this

Gingerbread Graveyard Deep in the woods where the branches hunch low and the path tastes bitter on a frightened tongue, there squats a cottage frosted thick with lies, every candy tile and sugared brick a trap laid for the young,I smell the rot behind the syrup, feel the sour under all that shining glaze, see

Glass Jaw The mirror’s cracked and bleeding, but it’s only my reflection.I wear my old confessions like a throat full of infection.I build my walls from panic, line the halls with dread.Sleep with the lights on, keep the monsters in my head. There’s voices in the corners, shadows in the phone.I count the pills, count

Fucking Holy Saints cross the street when I’m coming down the block.Priests clutch their pearls, mothers triple-lock.Got a crucifix burn where I kissed her neck,and every Bible in town’s missing pages I wrecked. Confession booth’s out of order.I pissed in the holy water.The choirboys went hoarse trying to pray me away,but I light up the