Poems

Winchester Mystery House, California – Welcome to the Maze Step past the gardens tangled in rose and regretWinchester’s facade lures you in–no promise, only debtThe porch sags with secrets, the windows fog with gloomYou enter, and the walls lean closer, hungry for your doomNo map here is honest–every hallway leads astrayCorridors fold on themselves, swallowing […]

500.Echoes of a Fading Light Echoes of a Fading Light The mirror cracks, I see the man I’ve become,Shadows stare back, but no one’s home.Voices whisper, I can’t shut them out,A mind in pieces, I scream and shout.The light fades faster, I can’t hold on,The world keeps spinning, but I’m already gone.Every thought’s a fight,

What the Neighbors Heard They heard the ambulance at 3 A.M.The red lights spinning through their blinds,the diesel idle of the engine,the medics with their practiced lines—sir, can you hear me, sir, stay still—and the stretcher wheels on the front porch wood,the door that stayed wide open to the coldbecause nobody thought they shouldclose it,

When the Weight Wins I’ve been staring at the ceiling for the seventh hour straightcounting cracks like they’re the days I let evaporatethere’s a list of things I swore I’d do pinned above my deskbut the distance from this bed feels like climbing EverestI know what needs doing, got the map drawn in my headbut

Whaley House, California – The Past Lingers Past the garden’s iron fence and roses never meant to bloomThe Whaley House watches midnight, a sentinel above each tombFloorboards buckle under memory,history seeping through every crackWhere the wind drags old verdicts down corridors,always circling backBuilt on gallows’ aftermath,the ground is layered thick with crimeThe noose’s shadow buried

What We Built We built a house — I mean it and I don’t —the literal walls, the rooms we live inside,but also something else, something as true:a structure no one else can see, the load we made together. The language came first. That’s where it starts.The shorthand, the two-word story that would takeanyone else

Waverly Hills Sanatorium, Kentucky – Speak of Madness Past the city’s last dying light,behind fences sagging with old secretsand warning signs that keep nobody safeWaverly Hills rises–stone and brick,skin and bone, a wound that refuses to healA monument to every promise medicine ever broke,every scream swallowed by walls too thick to let hope slip outWindows

(Outro) We burned it bright, we burned it bright,Now the cinders fade and we’re walking through the night.Farewell to the magic that shaped our fate—The crooked miles are heavy, but we made it, we made it. Farewell to the phantom that carved our names,Every crooked mile staked like a claim.The load that we bore with

Villisca Axe Murder House, Iowa – Chop Chop Night leans heavy on Villisca, the air clotted with regretEvery shingle, every threshold, a ledger of secrets unmetA farmhouse squats in moonlight, battered by a century’s shameWhere the walls learned to whisper every unspeakable nameShadows twist above the baseboards, thick as blood in old veinsThe floor groans

Waking the Beast In the midnight, the shadows crawlThe whispers call, I lose it allHer voice, it burns, it fills my headWaking the beast th’s long been deadWaking the beast, I can’t resistIn her grip, I’ve lost my fistDevil’s touch, I fall so deepWaking the beast, there’s no escape from sleepHer eyes are flames, they