When Blood Calls to the Moon

Gothic vampire feeding on a victim under a full moon, with a looming werewolf in the shadows.

When did your pulse last howl at the moon?

Stony stillness suffocated my breath,
while I struggled under his oppression.
My veins raved and raged with blood aggression,
while I strutted in the presence of Death.

Demons delivered eternal darkness;
a monster governed by the moon attacked.
I trampled with terror until they cracked;
liberating me to hunt and harvest.

My bites thrust parasites into the mind;
transporting from euphoria to dread.
With each gentle kiss my energy bled,
while with my love I left disease behind.

—H, cartographer of feral veins

Whispers from the Wound: More Grief Poems to Mourn…

Gothic oil painting of three sorrowful men in a desolate moonlit landscape, symbolizing heartbreak and despair.

Tearful Eyes and the Lover Who Replaced Me

Tearful eyes searched the horizon for a mistake that never existed. Love was replaced, dreams scattered, and a heart ensnared by silence and cold retreat.

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A kneeling young man in a dark ruined corridor, with candles and a rocking horse at his feet, watches a shadowy figure walk away

Big Daddy

A heart-wrenching lyric poem about father loss, neglect and the quiet devastation that followed. Through strangers and shadows, one boy tried to replace the love he never received — and never forgot.

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Gnarled black tree with hunched, cloaked figures rooted into its twisted base under a stormy sky

Fed on Dirt

A brutal meditation on inherited trauma, this poem uses visceral natural imagery to portray a family choked by its own roots, where no light reaches, no healing takes and love rots on the vine.

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Whispers from the Scars: More Poems of Survival and Strength…

A solemn, scarred young man stands in a red-lit gothic ballroom holding a glass, while elites mingle in the shadows behind him

Adrenochrome

A poetic fragment of fury and fear, Adrenochrome is a whispered curse from behind the headlines. A glimpse into the rot beneath the pageantry, and the youth devoured for it.

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A sorrowful crowned woman stands in shadow before a barred window inside a dark stone fortress.

I Exist in Your Fortress: A Cry from the Shadows

A soul imprisoned behind unseen walls, where sunlight never reaches and mockery reigns. Yet within the cold—a spark endures, whispering, “I exist.”

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Blood-streaked sink in dim, tiled bathroom with chains and a shadowy mirror above

Danced the Razor’s Edge

A sorrowful meditation on betrayal and self-destruction, this poem dances the fine line between desperation and release. It bleeds with the ache of unrequited hope, where pain becomes prayer and silence becomes a scream.

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Whispers in Meter: More Sonnets to Unfold…

Grieving man kneels at a grave as doves fly upward and fiery trumpets blaze in a dark sky

Thunderous Trumpets Blew

Hell burned in your gaze while Heaven’s trumpets shook the sky; I kissed your soul as doves lifted grief into starlight.

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a young man and a horned demon face each other in a dimly lit scene, the demon offering a glowing hand mirror

Delicious Sins and the Devil’s Whisper

He was the first to offer me to darkness, wrapped in the tongue of devils and clothed in unsung beauty. The saints looked away as demons drank deeply, while false freedom spoke in poisoned hymns. I vanished into echoes—faith shattered, innocence devoured.

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A boy with bound hands kneels alone beneath a red moon, while distant figures dance along the shoreline.

Bound in Darkness

A blood-stained sonnet of abuse and survival, told beneath the Celtic moon. A cry from the dark, where no one listened, not even God.

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