Poems

Breaking the Bed In the hush that falls when midnight has devoured the noise of the day and left nothing but us, tangled in dim lamplight and secrets, a slow ache builds–a hunger so raw it trembles beneath the skin. Every curve of your body is a dare, a prayer, a soft provocation; every glance […]

Bed of Roses This isn’t a fairy tale, no gentle myth of silk and bloom,Our bed of roses is a battlefield, thorns everywhere, heavy perfume.We fuck between petals and pain, tangled in sheets that smell like spring and blood,You ride me like you own every ache, every pleasure, every flood.Your nails rake red down my

Aging Ain’t for Sissies Every year arrives like a bill collector, demanding payment in the form of aches,The kind of pain that wakes you at 3am, knees screaming, back muttering old curses,You can Botox the face, dye the hair, tell yourself it’s just a number,But gravity is the only law that never gets repealed, skin

Battlefield of Hearts In this endless theater where artillery aches and lust collide,We are bodies marching into darkness, history tattooed on our hides.The sky above us crackles with the bright war of want and regret,Every touch a skirmish, every sigh a surrender, but nobody’s lost yet.The rhythm of scar tissue splits open beneath midnight’s parade,As

A Dozen Pills Empty bottle sweating on the table, glass gone cloudy in the early light,The sun cuts sharp through filthy blinds, no warmth, just the geometry of defeat.The mirror catches a face I barely know–Eyes ringed in exhaustion, skin drawn thin by a thousand restless hours,The voice in my head is a faded whisper,Drowned

A Kiss in the Dark You kissed me in the dark–no stars, no streetlight–just the press of bodies hiding from the honest violence of the day,Shadows curled around us like greedy hands, slipping between bare skin and sweat, as if they knew something we never could say.Your mouth on mine was a secret, a transaction

Wolf’s HowlRun with the wolf, feel the storm,His eyes ignite, fierce and warm.In his howl,the truth is torn,Born of pain and darkness sworn. Through tangled roots and starless skies,he guides you through the storm,Where the dark grows thick, and fear takes shape,in its most chilling form.“Walk with me where the brave won’t tread,in the land

13 Minutes to Midnight Tick, tick–the seconds stretch like wire under tension,A clock nailed to the wall like a threat, face cracked, hands inching with intent.The house is a wound, shadows pooling at the baseboards,Every quiet room swollen with the aftermath of laughter,Thirteen minutes left on the dying clock–Time leaks through fissures, a slow, ugly

13 Times a Day Beneath the hungering ceiling of an empty house,Shadows gather, licking at the silence with tongues as soft as dust,Every wall recites unfinished confessions,Old paint cracking with the weight of histories nobody claims.A single lamp flickers, a sallow witness–Light wavering between worlds, casting the shape of what used to be.Time here is

Wicked WonderlandOutroThe chandelier unties its chainand hisses into dead,She’s already past the gate that wanted proof of dread.