Poems

Salem, Massachusetts — Trialsby Dawg Under the gallows’ ruin, where night refuses to forget,Salem’s cobblestone arteries pulse with ancestral regret.Moonlight fractures on rooftops, splintering across colonial bone,every shadow stretches longer in a town condemned alone. The Witch House leans on history, its timbers tight with pain,muffled by prayers unanswered, by verdicts that remain.Justice faltered in […]

Savannah, Georgia — Haunted Cityby Dawg Cobblestones clutch stories, swallowing centuries whole,each groove in the mossy street carved by sorrow’s toll.Spanish moss droops from branches, veiling secrets, old and wise,where Bonaventure’s angels mourn with rain in hollowed eyes. Every house leans in whisper, shutters groaning with regret,red brick sweats the legend of debts not settled

Pretty When She’s Broken She draws lipstick like a blade,red smudged like sins she never madeWhispers to herself in the mirror,“Smile, bitch, you’re still paid”But her eyes are cracked glass,mascara warpaint for the wars she never choseNights blur in motel ceilings,ashtray prayers and throbbing ceilingsShe fucks to forget, brehes to survive,laughs like something feral’s healingEvery

Red Shift Everything is shifting red behind my eyelids when they close,the infrared of wanting painted everywhere she goesin memory — the kitchen, leaning back against the sink,the way the cotton clung to wet skin faster than I’d think. I’m Doppler-shifting toward her from a distance I can’t cross,the frequency of wanting turning everything to

Rising from the Ruinsby Dawg Amid toppled gravestones where yesterday’s burdens rot,regrets crumble in damp earth–each one named and forgot.No wailing wind will resurrect their mournful dirge,yet beneath the ruin, a subtler urgecoaxes a stubborn green from all that was lost–hope finding foothold, no matter the cost. Failures lie fetid, their bitterness spent,yet from their

Possession by Proxyby Dawg In the rotting heart of a city long past caring,where towers hunched like broken vertebraeagainst a permanent bruise of a sky,Clare moved through her days as a ghost might:invisible but not unseen,present but somehow erased. At first, the encroaching darkness revealed itselfas minor infractions in reality’s order.A flicker in the corner

Poveglia Island, Italy — Echoes of Sorrowby Dawg Poveglia drifts in the Venetian lagoon,caught forever between tide and time,its shores stained by centuries of silence and suffering. Rotting pilings and crumbling walls betray the legacy of quarantine,where plague ships once drifted with cargoesof fevered breath and final prayers,and the soft black soil–more bone than earth–remembers

Pontefract, England — The Black Monk Houseby Dawg Pontefract broods beneath sullen skies,wind pressing its chill through the bricks of Number 30 East Drive,a house born of postwar optimism,now saturated with dread–every stone, every doorframe,complicit in what survives. Behind faded curtains and the measured tick of a clock,silence is never empty;it fills with the dust

Phoenix Rebornby Dawg In the cemetery of broken dreams, night presses in–a cold, relentless judge,every gravestone etched with the story of another hope torn down,another wish unfulfilled. Frost devours the bones of ambitions,and the ground remembers every desperate pledge,and hope itself seems a rare disease,infected by the ashes of all it once willed. Yet from

Pompeii, Italy — Ashes to Ashesby Dawg Pompeii, Italy–where volcanic shadow fell and daylight never returned,a city carved in agony, stone mouths parted in screams that the world has learned.Vesuvius loomed, its rage unbound, raining fire that sculpted despair,ash sealed every secret: lovers entwined, prayers rising to gods who weren’t there. Ancient streets spiral with