Seductive Voices (a poem)

I heard those seductive voices in darkness

not the ones you think

they weren’t from lipsticked-maidens

call girls nestled in hotel sheets

the voices were calls of

violence, conspiracy

they called not from red-light districts

but corners of the online world

they promised secrets of

the way the world worked –

I said no thank you, sir

your secrets are safe with me

but I won’t agree

to be part & parcel

to your devious proposals.

(Photo by NASA on Unsplash)

Criminals (a poem)

I dream of criminals, being a witness to misdeed

men with dark eyes do dark things in motel rooms

tell me to keep my mouth zippered shut –

I wake with a sense of dread

storm clouds gather outside frosted windows

a woman with an umbrella screams

then runs for her life.

(Photo by Lacie Slezak on Unsplash)

Skeleton Key (a poem)

I want to trace my family’s history,

go back + find out how we got here –

there was a suicide in the ‘70s, a wound

we carry but do not discuss –

secrets hide in the shadows

+ who knows how they affect us.

Continue reading

Fallen Angels (a poem)

Satan rebels and fallen angels follow him

to the underworld – wings clipped, eyes ablaze

with red like the demons they are.

Stand atop this holy hillside and survey the city –

if you are the Messiah, then prove it.

Continue reading

The Witch Queen (a poem)

The Witch Queen nurses you to health and assures you

she means no harm – the people fear her because she’s

ageless and has wandered these woods for centuries,

speaking with wild animals and traversing the dark

landscape, looking for lost travelers.

She tends to their wounds, offers medicine in her hut,

then devours them in sexual ecstasy like they’ve

never experienced before. They all leave feeling better –

the Witch Queen is your friend, not your enemy.

(Photo by Miriam Espacio on Unsplash)

Note: This poem was inspired by a character in Old Gods of Appalachia, a horror anthology podcast that I’m currently obsessed with.

Depression is Like (a poem)

Depression is like draining the color from all

perception, until you see complete darkness –

like becoming blind in an instant, and having

to rely on the other four senses to navigate

a harsh landscape. It appears without warning,

as if you’re traveling on a frozen lake and the

ice gives way – you sink into the water, you cry,

you flail your arms – but all you can do is stay

afloat until the sun appears again and

you’re rescued.

(Photo by Collin Hardy on Unsplash)

Thunderous Rasp of Breath (a poem)

Dark Night, cold Breeze
From the circling fan above.
There is no sound,
Yet that of thunderstorms.
Pressure on my feet
And slight movement all around.
However life seems still,
When the thunderous rasp of breath
Is not to my right.
Sheep and stars do not help,
The darkness only reminds me I am alone.

(Photo by Ryan Phillips on Unsplash)