ShrtStry

In the depths where shadows writhe, A figure stands, grotesque, alive. With arms that twist in spectral night, Each hand a relic of morbid fright.

Moons that bleed with crimson tears, Wheels that turn with ancient fears. Faces with wings, eyes hollow and cold, A dance of dread, a tale untold.

In the murk of twilight’s veil, A presence looms, a ghostly wail. Guarding secrets, dark and dire, In whispers soft, like funeral pyre.

A guardian of realms unseen, In twilight’s grip, a ghastly queen. With every arm, a world decays, In her embrace, the cosmos frays.

In chambers vast of endless gloom, Where silence reigns, a living tomb. Her eyes, like voids, consume the light, Her breath, a chill in endless night.

The shadows bow, the darkness bends, To her command, the night descends. In her domain, no hope can bloom, Only despair, eternal doom.

Her laughter echoes, cold and stark, A symphony of the abyssal dark. In every corner, terror weaves, A tapestry of haunted eves.

Oh, wretched soul, who dares to tread, In her domain, among the dead. Beware the gaze, the touch, the breath, For she is mistress of living death.

In the heart of night, where horrors dwell, She reigns supreme, a queen of hell. With every arm, a curse she sows, In her embrace, the darkness grows.

By Sebastian J. Blanchette

if it’s love, let it cut you open let it rip through the bones of who you were love is love, they say, so make it raw
make it loud, make it something they can’t ignore don’t let them doubt it let it be a blade that carves deep.

love is love, so love him like you’ve never known loss like you’ve never tasted betrayal give him the best of what you’ve got left cradle him like a newborn burn for him like an old flame but never leave him with nothing but dust.

silence those voices in your head, the ones that whisper you’ll break again. if it’s real, let it sink its teeth in let it dig, let it grow, let it change you.

love is love I had my time, and so did you but don’t let the ghosts of what we were haunt you. love him like it’s the only truth left make it the only thing you can’t regret

by Sebastian J. Blanchette

Life burns at both ends, wild like a fire on a forgotten beach. You were the ash that fell silent, leaving me to sweep up the mess. You left, and I wandered through the wreckage, picking up old matches and memories, clinging to the sting because it was all that was left. My bones, brittle and dry, cracked under the weight of loving you, hollowed out by the fire we fed, each crackle another thief stealing what little was left of me. I drowned in the smoke, choked on the words I never said, each breath a reminder that the fire was real, that I was the one who fed the flames. But pain is a familiar friend, and I learned, bit by bit, how to stop searching for you in the ashes, how to let the wind take them wherever it pleased. Now, I walk these empty streets, changed but not broken, finding echoes of myself in the silence, in the shattered glass, in the way the night still falls even after the madness. The door’s there, still ajar on its rusty hinges. I walk by it often, knowing one day I’ll pass through it again, slowly, like a man tempting fate, striking a match not to rekindle the past, but to light a new path, hoping it leads me to somewhere I can call home.

By Sebastian J. Blanchette

we crawl through this existence, scarred and weary, knowing damn well we’ll break and be broken. it’s the toll we pay for feeling anything at all. to savor the bloom, we bear the frost’s sting. to be here, we confront the abyss. in this gritty waltz, pain and joy share a bed, each sorrow a prelude to a fleeting smirk. our collective walk, a mosaic of sobs and chuckles, pieced together by the same rough hands. to love is to risk, to live is to bet. we bare our souls, knowing they’ll bleed. yet in this raw, beautiful chaos, we find our truth, we take our chance. we stride through the flames, scars and all, because the alternative is a life half-lived, a heart half-shut. we kiss the chaos, the unknown, because in the end, it’s the only way to truly be alive. so we dance, awkward and unafraid, knowing that every stumble, every fall, is just another part of this wild, wonderful ride. and in the end, when the music fades, we’ll look back and see that every moment, every tear and every laugh, was worth it.

By Sebastian J. Blanchette

We wrap ourselves in security blankets, the flicker of TV shows, the hum of movies, books that whisper our adoration, music that wrings tears from our eyes. Saved photos, lost in the endless scroll, searching for a past that slips through our fingers.

Are these the pieces that built us? Am I just a creature stitched from poems, songs, whiskey, cheesecake, and Arthurian legends? We gather our trinkets, build our nests, surround ourselves with fragments of our essence.

Have all my kisses been forgotten, those pressed to the lips of women I loved, those offered to the sea, and those intimate pecks lost to the void?

Am I a lover because I’m enough, or because I know the ache of what’s not enough? Am I an artist because I watched others dance, or is it the metal in my bones, binding me, slowing me, turning my own dance into a cultural shame?

We gaze outward for answers buried within, questioning the colors, the mist, the dew, the snow, and the sun’s rise and fall since our youth.

Did the cigarette smoke, the fights, the running away ignite my romance, or did the books I cherished teach me the true tenderness of gentleness?

Was I deceived by caution? The craving for innocence and purity? Why does the lawless and tainted beckon, leaving us in doubt?

Why do we flee loneliness, yet seek it in crowded rooms? Why do Friday and Saturday nights come with a hunger, an urge to explore, to be surrounded, to feel whole?

If I knew the answers to these questions, would I be a religious man? Or just another knot in the endless thread of those who gazed at the stars?

Sometimes I wonder if there is no answers at all. Just art, delicacies, booze, and scribbles. We gather these things, soak in them, hoping they’ll seep into us, shape us, into something more, or at least something people are attracted to.

by Sebastian J. Blanchette

the wind, my old friend, takes me by the collar, drags me through the streets, past the ghosts of yesterday, whispering secrets of the lost and found.

the past, not a chain, but a smirk in the mirror, a reminder of battles fought, and scars worn with pride, as the days grow lighter, and the gods play their games, laughing as mortals die.

my soul, a restless student, ever hungry for wisdom, my heart, a reckless fool, charging headlong into chaos, embracing the bruises, the lessons etched in flesh and bone.

we surrendered to the magic, danced with the shadows of our forebears, feet tracing ancient rhythms, an old soul tuning into the eternal hum, the pulse of the universe, a symphony of time and space.

I read the cards, wore the stones, let the smoke of old rituals chase away the darkness, the weight of the world lifted, if only for a moment.

runes scattered on my desk, curses melted into wax, books whispering secrets, teaching me to breathe, to find peace in the chaos, to see beauty in the broken.

and as the wind carries me, in every which way, I smile at the journey, the twists and turns, the highs and lows, knowing that in the end, it’s all part of the dance.

By Sebastian J. Blanchette

Did you reckon I’d just cease? Upon a smattering of words, And conclude I’m deceased?

This might is immortal, This spirit, an endless brawl. Let’s face the grim truth, My soul, it won’t fall.

I’m trudging through gutters, Inking, vaulting towards some grim fate. This is a climb This is life, Madness spewing onto desolate slate.

Time shrieks out all my forsaken names, The ones I renounced, The ones I still claim. A timer has started, And it feels rather rushed.

I’m scribbling for angels I’m bleeding for slient doves, Chanting with devils sleeping on discarded loves

I’ve awoken something older, Something I put far away. It’s not the whiskey, Nor the hunger, It’s the voice of the rain.

by Sebastian J. Blanchette

You’ll hear me mutter it, over stale beer breaths, “Life’s a damn comedy,” the punchline? A grand cosmic joke, flesh mocking, a howl in the void, a fool too wise for his own good.

Maybe that’s just fine, Maybe that’s just how the cookie rots, murmurs drowned in bourbon, midnight road burdens, soliloquies to an empty mug.

Grace in the plummet, wild, and untamed, over the brink, and into the insane, off ledges, into the void’s cold smooch, sly grin, playful hiss, melodies from days of reckless rebirth.

Friends, old and new, doors flung wide to the shadows, everlasting contradiction, smart men call it superposition, some name it purgatory, a place to linger, to fade, I named it home, adorned with verses and ancient tongues

Memories drenched in old parks, dancing under the glare of street lamps, succumbing to the city’s roar, running until the heart’s blaze scorches, defiance snarled at agony, mocking its scorn.

there’s no shame in sticking to the same old game, like playing old worn tunes, beyond time’s heavy claim, poised for the end with a smug smile, triumphant in the hunt, mile after mile.

Laughing at the madness of the stars clutching with insatiable thirst, cherishing with boundless passion, the gods do love a good fool, a ritual of the ages, the oldest of rules.

Sebastian Blanchette

Beneath the veil of this nights last stand, farewells are hushed, a pact sealed with the vanishing stars. “Find tranquility,” I whisper to the fleeing night, yet you’re a murmur in the tempest of life, swift and departed, a remnant feeling fading from my outstretch hands.

Time’s been handing out keys to doors unasked for, a riddle with fragments that mockingly misalign. the allure of might and magic, a tale we spin, I grin at the tempest, a promise breaking at dawn.

“I’ll manage,” I assert to my own reflection, a line perfected in the echo chamber of both our minds. Love isn’t scripted, and this performance has dried out my bones. “One day, hindsight will gift you wisdom,” the phantoms whisper, but time is a thief, offering lessons not often asked for.

“No, life’s complexities can’t be so neatly sorted,” I retort, a truth too heavy for our pockets. “Release these burdens,” I plead with the void, but it’s merely a reverberation, a verse from an anthem we’ve ceased to chant.

Innocent and unblemished, the lie we dress up with purity, tonight, the truth constricts, a jacket too tight to wear. It was hard letting this go, this dream we’ve outgrown, But it’s in the letting go, in the goddamn release, that we stumble intoxicated and grinning into freedom.

Forward, unbound, and shackles shed we proclaim our intent to the heavens, but life is a canvas splattered with the paint of our choices, and love, love is the art of learning to tenderly kiss the chaos.

by Sebastian Javier Blanchette

In the dim light of the bar's last call, I found a truth, simple and raw. Forgiveness, like a spilled drink, seeps into the wood, and I think, it's not about the time or the why, it's about the heart's quiet sigh.

I forgave you, not with grandeur or flair, but with the silence of an empty chair. Your actions, they were a desert wind, bleaching bones, where our love had been. But I hold no grudge, no secret spite, I let it go, like a bird taking flight.

You're looking for a place to stand, in a world that's shifting like sand. No malice here, no bitter taste, just hope that you find your peace, posthaste.

You said I sought chaos, a storm to command, but I sought order, with a steady hand. I know myself, piece by piece, a puzzle complete, a quiet release.

A heart that's whole, that's what I've got, cherished and treasured, not left to rot. I'll strive, I'll reach, I'll dare to be more, beyond who I was, to an unopened door.

In the midnight rain, I'm a silent creed, watching droplets, letting my heart bleed. Years may pass, but here I'll be, in the doorway, watching, finally free.

So find me in the rain, find me in the song, find me where the night is deep and long. There I am, and there I'll stay, the true me, whole, come what may.

by Sebastian Blanchette