By S. A. Bender I drew your bath at dusk and filled it with oatmeal and iodine. Laid the linens soft on marble. Arranged the silver in sequence— from whisper to wound. You came to me as one comes to prayer: barefoot, unsure, still carrying your name in the fragile bones of your throat. I asked you to lie down, and you did, without question. Love like that is already a kind of death. I anointed your chest with warm water and thyme. Let my fingers memorize your pulse before

By Darren Ryding Today i wandered the streets of soho under the weight of nonexistent eyes like infinite young ghosts before me on a gay sex shop quest to obtain a thin black harness and matching jockstrap.   Dawn approaches and soon we will draw swords but nothing is stopping me from leaving only inexplicable compulsion has guided me this far, we cannot hide from ourselves who we are.   The steps lead down into the underworld pay the fee, receive a towel and a key i strip of

By Weston Campbell The birthing tube is tearing in the mud, underground with the worms. The fertilized ova are spilling into furrows of virginal dirt. Down where the scavengers wander, in the haunt of the carrion-fed, in silence, the queen is disgorging her million glistening eggs. The birds become aware of the smell and the sound of the prey. In a furious frenzy of feathers, they descend on the writhing remains. When the feast and the orgy have ended they return to their cav

By Vincent De Souza uncloak diametric terrors bite with gentrified nitric poisoning drones of vulcanised black bolt lightning my closed wound gravedug open sores inseminated woken, undead enlivened   Lamia , Siamese gargoyle creationist reward my selfish love darkened arts cadavers raid our rancid sepulchre hearts we alone claw-rip jubilee’s blended blood suckle coital lust, devil angel unionists Note: Lamia  in Greek legend is a child-devouring human ghoul. In Latin, it can

By Bob W Christian They told you Halloween was candy and costumes Cartoon witches, plastic masks, porch lights. They lied. This is Samhain, the true night. Not a thin veil, but one that splits. Cracks like an old bone under a boot. Oozing time; bleeding memories; Spilling souls into your frosty breath. The dead don’t whisper tonight, They scream. They crawl through smoke, Rise from the ash of your grinning pumpkins Jack O’ Lanterns like corpses, Smiling with secrets. You left

By Ping Yee My feed fires up some bar-brawl clip or other: waistcoated middle-aged gent holding his palm over a lit candle, teaching some lout a lesson about pain, strength, or something; David Carradine watching on sagely. A flame’s blue heart whispers some thousand degrees C, cooler than the wellspring overhead, six thousand to fifteen million degrees; shafts of starlight marking me by my shadow on concrete. Stewing in umbra, my embers judged wanting while others’ ignite, s

By Lauryn Taylor Morals scorned. Shattered mirrors mourn disillusionment, presides as shadows darken. Tears drop, staining clipped wings in stride. Strength once, reigned. This rigid body suc- cumb. The bloodied taste, of righteousness. Defeat. #DarkPoetsClub

By Adélaïde Giudicelli Under my red coat grow an alien From a dimension I didn’t ask for Hard science hit me back and forth There is no place for a Frankenstein No state for a mind like yours No scene for a face like yours But I love you baby girl You are the spark, the pearl Let me stab my stomach Tear my skin by myself Can you hear this crack? See the light by yourself Don’t act like a phantom I will make you a home No hard feelings tiny boy You are better than a toy Do

By Carol Ward Baby soft downy-cheeked rosy and supple smooth and pliable clear and healthy velvety lustrous smooth-browed sun-worship glowing sunspot-blotched crow’s feet-furrowed          laugh line-trenched parchment paper opaque rice paper translucent spider web wrinkled Varicose-veined purpura-pocked Dust #DarkPoetsClub

By Helen Savage Incels, wankers Wannabe gangsters Get rich quick Suck my dick YouTube TickTok Boob tubes suck cock The art of submission Who needs permission Brag to your mates She’s yours on a plate Won’t show you disgrace She knows her place Be strong act hard Smoke weed in the yard I’ve got your back I’ll keep you on track Buying selling People yelling Shit flying like rockets Peas in your pockets Stash the money and the shank Go upstairs have a wank Watch some porn Get th

By Doug Walters I would assume that, should they exist, spirits don’t weigh anything. You’re so light the couch barely shakes as you sit down next to me, proselytizing with an uncorked bottle in one hand, two empty glasses in the other. Not real, but all I had. Cheap impulse buys from the grocery store. You’re not impressed but “we’ll make do.” Next time…real ones. Bases not chipped…long smooth stems sexy and straight like a cheerleader’s waist…a bowl with a rim that sings li

By Emma Denny There is a part of me A small sick part That loves to be unlovable   That has reveled in the eyes of a terrified man Who swore he knew me But cannot recognize Who he sees in front of him   Only to the ones who deserve to atone Who mean to change me Into something I’m not   That should be just But it isn’t   I seek them out To convince them they can love That I can love   And then  To break them   I get them used to my feathered touch To whispered promises To com

By Taliesin Don Your mother’s ghost milked me through the wet cotton of my selfishness. I yelp in the yellow of morning, fingers pressed to my tongue tasting the sour of old rot and something festered, sweet. In the dark, you led me past the pleasure house, past the orchard down to where the barley was soft and bent-backed from August rain. Skin to soil, salt and spit between us, denim tugged halfway down— Beneath us, worm-bloated coffins, a body born of your name, not yet co

By Danny Bennett As crows cry frantic. Disturbed and aggrieved. Above deserted, characterless streets, With daunting shadows and corrupted light. The way ahead is always uncertain.   Hulking metal on flowing arteries. The passing roar; monstrously ferocious. Occasionally fading. Is it safe? A death-defying gauntlet to be run.   As strangers approach, weary and cautious, Trapped in the confines of the tarmac path, I wonder: Are you friend or are you foe? Like ships in the nigh

By Janelle Standish They taught me early to fold my voice like a napkin, neat, white, easy to ignore.   I became an echo that flinched before it sounded.   They called it dignity. But it was just a prettier word for disappearance.   I swallowed whole oceans to keep the peace. Now all I do is drown beautifully. #DarkPoetsClub

By Laura Rust Conversations replay in my head for hours. often for half of the night. i never truly rest.    -   Paranoia — i can’t tell if someone is being nice or manipulating me. i assume that i am disliked.    The other shoe is constantly teetering on the edge. when is it going to fall? why am i always under it?   Some places i can’t go. unless i’m in the mood to be waterboarded with memories. unless i want to feel anxiety tunnelling into my gut like a rat with no other w

By Michael Peyton The sound you hear is merely the smoldering remains of my once grand existence. The smoke rises and drifts aimlessly, as lost as my will for resistance. ~~~~~~ Words that I had so longed to hear spoken, echoed loudly across this desolate plane. It was all mis-taken. The dark flame now rekindled, burns with blinding pain. ~~~~~~ The steam from hot tears against my cheeks leads to a view through impeded vision I allowed my heart to make a decision so again I s

By Jen Billing fae-ring portals creamy bright against dark brown swaying choir of ribwort plantain, asteroid circled heads, their bosky mushroom taste in my mad mouth   cave mouth wrecklessly sucking, mouth of a river’s murked live stream of consciousness, mouth of a black tunnel for a runaway train’s screaming steaming vortex   or the mouth of a burrow haven of the paper-white rabbit she once saw wild among the mine ruins, page from a book come to life turning leaf   now I w

By MH Four walls, blue. Not light blue, more sky blue, On a moody day in March blue. Curtains blue, the same blue. Carpet too, blue, like you. Lampshades blue, Makes light blue too. Cast in glow forever blue. And though I grew To hate the blue, What would I do Without blue. Told you, I’m sick of blue. Blue, blue, BLUE! Then one day, grey. Four walls, grey. Not dark grey, more cement grey, Cloudy November rain grey. I slip away, Stare into grey. Bed grey, carpet grey, Curtains

By Yucheng Tao Today, the museum closes its doors early, waiting; how much of the night’s bleakness seeps into it, enjoying the dark corridors. The Indian tents with pointed frames, like spears of bone, stand pierced in the empty lobby, lonely, waiting; how the winter wind cuts through it. As the cold artifacts of the museum catch the outside glow, the carnivalesque slaughter brings laughter to civilization. Denver’s rain is absent and dry, the natives of the Arapaho meditate