THE CLOSET MYSTIC

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  • October 1st, 2025

    sometimes poetry is freedom

    sometimes it is barbed wire.

    sometimes it is liberation

    sometimes it is ruin.

    sometimes it is truth,

    often falsehood.

    sometimes it is truth

    wrapped in falsehood,

    sometimes falsehood

    wrapped in truth. 

    who is to say which?

    sometimes 

    it’s like taking what’s ugly

    and making it clean.

    sometimes

    it’s like taking what’s gorgeous 

    and making it weep.

    sometimes 

    i lay myself

    naked 

    on paper.

    sometimes,

    i hide myself 

    in glamour.

    every poem I’ve ever written

    that wasn’t about desire

    is false.

    that’s all i know.

  • ⚸

    September 28th, 2025

    Mountains tremble

    at her name.

    planets shudder.

    the stars 

    wink out

    for fear of being seen.

    she holds 

    a thousand Suns

    in the palm of her hand.

    she is the void

    behind the void,

    she is the darkness

    carrying

    the darkness.

    who 

    comes for the reaper

    when it’s his time?

    it is her.

    it’s she 

    who awaits

    when death himself

    dies.

  • September 28th, 2025

    love: 

    one of the most basic needs.

    give a man a warm bed

    but no love,

    still will he freeze.

  • September 28th, 2025

    don’t you know

    my cradle was a coffin,

    my beginning 

    the end?

    and don’t you know 

    my sunrise

    was a sunset,

    that i was baptized 

    in the Styx?

    don’t you know

    the stars winked out

    when my heart 

    began its beating?

    and don’t you know

    how many bled

    to feed the babe

    naked, nursing?

    a bottle filled

    with ruby red—

    how many left

    drained, bleeding?

    so, i ask you:

    can a vampire

    learn to love?

    can i kiss your neck

    without sinking

    my teeth?

    and if you lay your head 

    on my chest

    but hear not a heartbeat,

    tell me: 

    will you run?

    please, tell me:

    can a vampire love?

  • September 28th, 2025

    the only true pain

    is not feeling at all

    sorrow can be bliss

    if you’re numb for too long

  • lilith

    September 28th, 2025

    There’s a great wildness within

    with no pastures in which to run. 

    There’s a great sorrow within

    with no fields in which to wail. 

    There’s a river within me

    that’s long run dry — 

    where did the rapids 

    up and go? 

    What do I do with wildness

    in a concrete jungle? 

    There are screams that echo

    deep in my gut—

    whose hand is clasped 

    over my mouth?

    When did ocean

    turn to cement? 

    Who chose Eve

    and chained Lilith?

  • Official Book Announcement

    September 15th, 2025

    Posted everywhere but here — officially announcing the release of my first book, The Closet Mystic, Volume One! A collection of my poetry, hand-picked from this blog. Click here to purchase!

  • September 12th, 2025

    a cold has syrup. a fever, a reducer. a cough, a lozenge. 

    what of the spirit?

    what of heartache? 

    poetry, music. 

  • September 12th, 2025

    earth beneath my feet, you draw pain from my veins. the dirt, a sponge that soaks up the madness. baptism not by water, but by earth: mother, make me clean.

  • September 11th, 2025

    into the loose fist doth the world fall.

    let go, let go, let go.

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