Rotten Strawberry

New poems
On a black velvet altar cloth stands an ornate, tarnished silver mirror, its frame shaped like interwoven thorny vines and tiny, winged dragons. Reflected in the mirror is not the room, but a dark forest path lined with crumbling stone statues and a distant, skeletal castle tower. At the base of the mirror sits a small crystal bowl filled with bruised strawberries, their juices pooling like spilled ink. Thin candles, nearly spent, drip wax onto the cloth, their dim flame tips providing the only warm light. Everything else is bathed in cold, desaturated moonlight leaking from the mirror’s vision. The composition favors asymmetrical balance, with a moody, introspective fantasy-art style that suggests poetry as a portal into darker inner landscapes.

Mortal Ledger

Walk back through older poems, a dim corridor of dated pages, dust, and echoes.

Relics