Poems

Bonaventure Cemetery, Georgia — Good and Evilby Dawg Beneath the Spanish moss that trails like accusation from the trees,Bonaventure holds its silence, trembling in the slow night breeze.Iron gates groan open–welcoming, yet laced with warning’s chill,pathways tangled in moonlight lead where memory drinks its fill. Marble angels brood on pillars, faces streaked with time’s own […]

Bonfire Gravity The beach fire crackles.The sparks climb.The waves keep timelike a heartbeatin the dark behind us. She sits close.Closer than the cold requires.It’s eighty degreesand she’s pressed against melike she needs the warmthand we both knowthe warmth she needsisn’t coming from the flames. Bonfire gravity —everything falls toward her,the light, the heat, the smoke,every

Bellamy Bridge, Florida — Lost Vowsby Dawg Moss dangles from oak like unraveling veils,the Panhandle’s heat never quite breaking the fever of old wounds.Bellamy Bridge arches above dark, slow water–a weathered spine, warped and splintered, sagging with ancient tunes. Mist curls off the riverbank, exhaling memoriesof vows that could not outlast the flames,a wedding dress

Blackout Sun Morning drags its rusted chainAcross a skull that won’t feel painMirror stares but nothing’s thereJust hollow eyes and borrowed air Heartbeat steady, soul on muteLiving life in a heavy suit ChorusBlackout sun above my headBurns no warmth, just paints me deadWalking tall but sinking fastFuture’s gone, I’m stuck in past Crowds move loud,

Blood-Pactby Dawg In the marrow of midnight, where breath catches on the edge of dread,a pact is written not with ink, but with the pulse and copper tang of blood–a trembling hand encircles an ancient blade, lips pressed to cold iron,the promise whispered into a silence deeper than any crypt,syllables slicked with terror, every word

Bachelor’s Grove Cemetery, Illinois — Lady in Whiteby Dawg Under the wasted eye of the moon, through the knot of tangled trees,Bachelor’s Grove sinks into memory, surrendering to the freeze.Overgrown with regret, moss claws at broken stones,here, the dead don’t sleep–they wait, they grieve, they groan. Each headstone is a wound, names chewed by lichen

Bell Witch Cave, Tennessee — The Witch’s Curseby Dawg Deep in the Tennessee earth, where the sun forgets to reach,the Bell Witch Cave yawns open, secrets smothered in speech.Roots twist like old vendettas, crawling through the limestone’s veins,every drip is a countdown, every echo’s a witch’s remains. Step past the mouth–feel that chill chewing through

Aphelion At the farthest point from having her, the orbit swings me wide,and I am lying in the aphelion with nothing left to hide —the body tells its truth at three a.m.,unvarnished, raw, and blunt,and every truth tonight is just a variation of I want. The sheets are a topography of restlessness and heat,kicked and

Annabelle — Watching. Waiting.by Dawg In a chamber starved of sunlight, where dust blurs every edge,Annabelle sits in her coffin of glass–unblinking, relentless,dredged from history’s darkest margins, stitched lips promising dread,her painted gaze, lacquered and bright, watches the living, dances with the dead. The wallpaper peels in apology, each shadow crawling slow,as if the room

Aokigahara Forest, Japan — Spirits Seeking Peaceby Dawg Shadows coil beneath ancient cedars, woven in root and grief,Aokigahara holds its silence–thick, implacable, beyond belief.Branches knit the sky to ground, locking in the hush,where sunlight shreds itself on leaves, and every step is crushed. Moss consumes the stone, and sorrow stains the air,the weight of hundreds–thousands–lingers,