Poems

HolyFansIn the cathedral’s shadow, where the ancientstones whisper secrets to the night,Lit by LED halos and bathed in a soft blue artificial light,She kneels, naked except for irony, on marble floors waxed with regret,The altar stained with sex and spilled communion wine,her priestess lips still wet.The holy water now a scented oil,dripped down the slope […]

Humans BeingThe last strand of hope tears loose, the alarms swell,A dirge for the living, the last of the stories to tell.Time itself warps,refusing to flow in its usual line,While night folds over us, unmaking every design.The sky weeps crimson,washing the years in dread,A shroud for every secret, every word left unsaid.Theground quakes with the

His Cock, Her CrossBeneath cracked plaster, dust falls like blessing,Moon-washed altar where sins are confessing—A single candle guttering low,cold sweat on her neck,Saints carved in silence, but none here to checkHowflesh can make faith out of hunger and shame,How hunger for meaning becomes hunger for pain.She kneels not to plead,not for pardon or prayer—No rosary

Hell (Save a Seat)The road curved downward, cobblestones slick with old betrayals,And every step recalled by the sulfurous heat beneath.I have tasted the night,bitten back mercy, fed off my own denials,And now the gates flare open wide with a welcome sharp as teeth.Smokerises in slow ribbons, thick as every lie I told to keep from

Heretics with Hard-onsBeneath cathedral ceilings cracked with mildew, neon blush,and secrets nobody confesses,They gather in the pews with zippers down, faith unzipped, absinthe on tongues,the offering plate a sex toy collectionand a crumpled bill for mercy—Every kneel is for worship but the gods here come,not from on high, but from between her thighs,with a hymn

Groomed for the AlgorithmShe spins in neon, pixel-perfect, a body staged beneath synthetic light,Mascara painted with the precision of commerce,innocence blurred into night.Applause scrolls upward, swipes assign her worth,Her youth devoured by the lens—curated hunger,broadcast birth.Words like “empowerment” mask the thirst in every view,Behind each bold hashtag, the ritual is always new.A minor paraded,merchandised to

Hallowed Be Thy AlgorithmPrayer recited to a server’s drone,Data blessed in monotone,Our digital lord in silicon shroud,Heard confessions only in the crowd.No one knelt, no incense burned,Just eyes fixed on the glow they’d earned.Forgive our scrolls, forgive our sins,Forgive the feed that never ends.Lead us not into real thought,Just give us dopamine, heavily wrought.Deliver us

Heaven (Let Me In)Iron gates, cold to the touch, rise before the witness,Palms pressed flat against patterns forged by millennia of longingand quiet acquittal,A supplicant—flesh bruised by years of losing,eyes scarred by everything seenand denied—Stands trembling in the pale margin between nowhereand whatever survives desire.The light beyond is said to blind,to wash even murderers clean,But

Green-Eyed ShadowsShe slips in through the hour between need and regret,Her scent rising off the sheets still stained with secret debt,A parasite trailing the wake of unfinished prayers,Feeding on the silence after laughter splits the air.Shewaits in the knotted bedsheets, in the slow unspooling sigh,Pressing lips to longing’s ache,her gaze set to pry—A priestess at

Glass KingsOn the throne of splintered longing, kings and queens reclinePerched atop centuries of prayers that crack along the lineTheir palaces built of illusions fused in molten sandFragile altars for the faithless, crafted by trembling hands.The higher the spire,the sharper the edge of each unspoken dealWhere arrogance glitters like diamonds—flawless,but unreal.Their crowns reflect a thousand