gothic
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A Psalm For Those Who Stay
A knock at the chapel door: no hand, no soundJust silence dressed in mourning’s gownThe death you feared has come & goneAnd yet the clock keeps ticking on It tolls not noon, nor dusk, nor dawnBut wake, the bell beneath… Continue reading
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More Alive Than The Living
They said the house at the edge of the forest was where people went to die. Not in flesh—at least not always—but in spirit. They called it The Hollow. No doors. Only a stairwell that descends without end. When Miriam… Continue reading
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The House That Crawls Toward God
They say the house on Saint Mary’s Hill rings its bell only on Easter Sunday, but no one remembers who rings it. Locals avoid the place. Some claim it shifts position ever so slightly each year, as though it were… Continue reading
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The Dead Keep a Garden
The baron built his house of stoneWith walls too wide for tearsBut I ran off through brush & boneAnd walked for seven years I crossed the creek, I climbed the moorWhere foxes howl & hideAnd found a gate of briar… Continue reading
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Beneath the Thorned Archway
Beneath the thorned archway, where the nightshade growsAnd bone-white roses cradle skulls in rowsShe waits where the moon drips red on stoneThe blood-born bloom where the curse has grown The garden breathes with sighs of ashEach vine a twitching, verdant… Continue reading
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Bride of the Hollow-Eyed Man
The first time Evelyn saw him, it was twilight, and the fog in the moor stitched silver veils between the bare-boned trees. He stood at the edge of the graveyard, where the iron fence buckled as if trying to crawl… Continue reading
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The Widow of the Crimson Tower
The tower stands where storm winds screamIts stones are drenched in dusk & dreamAnd ivy bleeds along the wallShe waits where shadows drown the gleam Her veil, once white, lies still, forlornA bridal ghost the years have wornShe strokes the… Continue reading
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The House at Withering Moor
The moor was mist-lashed, brittle with frost, and the clouds hung low and gray like mold on a ceiling. Eliza stood in the high tower window of Withering House, her hands resting on the cold sill, her breath fogging the… Continue reading
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Eternal Vows in the Catacombs
Beneath the chapel’s silent domeThey pledged their love in crypt & loamBy candle’s flare & shadow’s breathThey swore to conquer time & death Cold stone around them, damp with ageA tomb became their bridal stageTheir whispers curled like smoke through… Continue reading
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Midnight at the Graveyard Gate
The gate began to groan at twelveA breathless hinge from shadow’s shelveMist curled like fingers through the barsClutching dreams & silver stars She came in silence, pale & thinWith candlelight beneath her skinA ghost not bound by death or boneBut… Continue reading
God Is In The Radio 