Have you ever felt trapped inside a fortress built by someone else’s power?
I exist,
inside your harsh fortress;
the sun never shines on my face.
I am kept,
both chaste and majestic;
I’m a figure to be ridiculed.
I wonder,
will I escape from here;
to be rescued from this icy place.
—H, crying from the shadows
This poem follows a 3–6–9 syllabic structure – a form inspired by Nikola Tesla’s theory of energy, rhythm and repetition.
A spectral monarch speaks from a crumbling tower, cut off by ambition, betrayal and a heart long turned to frost. This poem drips with decay, not just of power, but of connection, longing and trust.
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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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Within frost-slick walls a heart waits, its breath a fog of dread; serpents hiss and conscience bleeds until even daylight feels like iron bars.
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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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While shallow hearts pumped for equality, queens snorted and screamed their hypocrisy. A searing poem about betrayal, gossip and the dark undercurrents of toxic friendships within gay circles.
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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 social micro-poem in 3–6–9 form that cries out against the silencing of truth. In a world overrun by beasts of terror, those who spoke were shamed, erased and left unheard.
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Beneath polished speeches and pious robes, corruption festers—its breath thick with greed, its fingers stained by lies, its prayers dripping with perversion.
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In this 3-6-9 micro-poem, a tiger becomes the metaphor for a wild, forbidden love that both captures and awakens. A brief moment of rebirth burns within the embrace of danger.
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