In the shadows of my love, a haunting truth lingers – my boundless affection, a curse veiled in desire. I dread the certainty of my impending ruin upon you, yet, entangled in selfishness, I refuse to release the grip of this heart that claws at your soul. You, dear one, unwittingly embody my twisted salvation.

✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙✙

something about gothic deaths… sickness that lasts for weeks and ends with blood stained sheets, days and days of being shut away from everyone that loves you. drowning (perhaps even by choice) in the waters you played in as a child. heartbreak so deep, so sudden, so chilling that it stops the blood flowing in your veins long enough to begin cardiac arrest. mysteriously found stabbed in a haystack. impaled on the spiral tower of a mansion you found on a foreign moor. hypothermia in the woods in the middle of winter, starvation in the streets of an English ghosttown, cut to death on the thorns of a hedge maze, struck down by a monster of your own making. idk. i just think they’re neat

sources:

1. The Inferno, Canto 24, Gustave Dore 2. Nathaniel Orion G.K. 3. Supervert, Necrophilia Variations 4. Cassandra Clare, Dark Artifices 5. Death and the Maiden, Takato Yamamoto 6. William Shakespeare, As You Like It 7. @thatantisocialbitch 8. The Silent Voice (1989), Alfred Lord 9. author unknown 10. (the playwrights will write your names in the darkness of the sky) 11. Émile Jean Horace Vernet, The Angel of Death (1852) 12. A Midsummer Night's Dream (1937) 13. Margaret Atwood, Alias Grace 14. Eliza Crewe, Crushed 15. Yoshitaka Amano, The Endless Desire 16. Maram Rimawi 17. Farouq Jwaideh 18. Mary Shelley, Mathilda 19. Włodzimierz Błocki, Kiss of Death (1902) 20. Psalm 139:8 21. Jason Chan, Fall 22. Asmita Sengupta 23. Frederick Seidel, The Last Poem in the Book 23. Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid 24. Anne Bachelier 25. Konstantin Makovsky, Demon and Tamara

virginia woolf’s last letter

Sunny gothic literature 🖊️ 🥀

Hunter's Poem from the Big City, Hunter Hancock

Devils Night - a poem inspired by The Crow (1994)

October 30th stricken clock screams for the final hour on a smoke-filled sky and begging cries wailing cat calls beg, white fur coated thick in ash floorboards creak while four men creep up splintering stairs into the lives of a man and a woman in love calloused gasoline-soaked hands belong to wretched minds that break and beat down apartment doors and the body of a spirited young woman as if they are both objects all the same a simple warning no longer the case but a race of who will have her first 143 cases of arson are enough on the list of crimes committed on Devils Night he arrives home in the scorched remains of his city only to find his bride ignited blink of an eye, a love separated and broke his arms outstretched, taking the place of a saviour in the absence of a merciful God shattered still beating heart falls through shattered glass upon a resting place of cold concrete in a rain that pours all the time while his bride's bed of trust becomes a bed of unspeakable lust surveying corvid spies, disguising as the murky sky waiting for the pain in his soul to be abundant enough to fuel his rise the black feather sings for a love gone up in smoke buildings burn, but love is always waiting in the wings a jilted altar, by both the groom and bride a year ago, now a time for revenge to make wrongs right once again a city in flames from the fires set on Devil's Night

~ Kaci O'Meara ☆

"The smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feeling of her skin seemed to have got inside him, or into the air all round him. She had become a physical necessity."

- George Orwell

Artwork by Sergey Galanter.

sinking ship

"Colors"

sadness surrounds 

a somber hue 

take my brush and 

color me blue

 

with the ashes 

of my lost fire 

color me gray 

with no desire 

where no light shines 

color me black 

i’ve made my choice 

no turning back 

a crimson bath 

color me red 

in the end you can 

color me dead 

Beloved,

watch me tear myself apart for you.

bit by bit,

limb by limb,

allow these tears to quench your thirst.

Teach me how to rip my vocal chords out of my throat with hands full of desperate maddening hunger,

listen to me compose a song for you.

I’ll slash my chest and wrench out my heart for you to feast on,

oh what a tiresome thing love is to me.

You were the last thing my memory was allowed to touch.

- Raniah-Lilith Shahnaz