Thaddeus Crowe, Macabre Poet

03/24/2026

My apologies for my absence. I have been making music. If anyone is interested in it, I can provide a link.
I will be posting more poems soon.

-Thaddeus Crowe 🐦‍⬛

03/10/2026

“The Fractured Mirror”

-Thaddeus Crowe 🐦‍⬛🖤

A fractured mirror, the mind breaks,
Reflecting chaos in the waking shakes,

Voices whisper in the quiet air,
A silent screaming, a frantic prayer.

The walls close in, a tight embrace,
As time dissolves, leaving no trace.

Sane thought flies on wings of fright,
Lost in the shadows of an endless night.

A dancing dream, a broken song,
Where right is left, and weak is strong.

The world spins round, a dizzy haze,
And I am caught in this wild maze.

It’s a beautiful ruin, a shattered grace,
A lonely journey through endless space.

03/04/2026

“The Quiet Rot”
-Thaddeus Crowe

There is a hush within my chest
Where something once had beat;
A hollow drum of living flesh
Now whispers soft defeat.

The hours crawl along the walls
Like pale and sightless things,
And every thought that once took flight
Returns with broken wings.

I hear faint laughter in the dark..
Or is it memory?
A fragile echo of a life
That will not come to me.

Once small hands clung about my sleeve,
Warm voices called my name;
But time….cruel sculptor of the heart,
Has worn them into blame.

And somewhere near, a gentler light
Still flickers thin and low;
Yet even that uncertain flame
Seems fearful now to glow.

For love, like lanterns in the wind,
Grows faint where shadows creep,
And I can feel its dying breath
While others dream in sleep.

Yet none shall see the inward grave
That slowly swallows whole;
For I shall smile with pallid lips
And mask the crumbling soul.

So let them pass and never know
The ruin I have been.
A man who walks, yet long ago
Was buried deep within.

And if the dark should claim me soon,
Or grief consume me fine,
I’ll whisper to the closing night:

“Fear not…
I shall be fine.”

02/27/2026

*A litany of madness….the realm of psychosis*

“Inventory”

-Thaddeus Crowe

Something is loose.

Not outside.
Inside the inside.

I keep swallowing and it does not go down.
It just… waits.
Warm.
Patient.
Like it paid rent.

My skin won’t stay still.

It keeps remembering it used to be
something else
something that peeled
something that split clean down the soft seam
and opened like wet paper.

I am fine.

I am fine I am fine I am….

What was that?

There is movement under the left rib.
Not heartbeat.
Too curious.
Too deliberate.

I pressed on it once.
It pressed back.

The mirror is late again tonight.
Half a second behind my face.
Like it has to think about me
before it commits.

My teeth itch.
Not ache.
Itch.

Do you know how obscene it is
to feel your own bones
asking questions?

I tried to sleep but the pillow
kept taking shallow little breaths
against my mouth.

Something is cataloguing me
from the inside out.

Finger by finger.
Layer by layer.
Soft inventory work.

And the worst part
the filthiest part
the part that makes my stomach fold wrong….

is that I am still
perfectly
functional.

See?

I can still write.

I can still smile.

I can still feel it
turn over slowly
in the dark meat of my chest
and make room
for whatever comes next.esssi

02/27/2026

02/25/2026

My apologies to my followers. I am working on some pieces that are delving more into the realm of psychosis.
Stay close with your candle lit in the dark. 🕯️
I shall be back soon.

-Thaddeus Crowe 🐦‍⬛

02/22/2026

02/22/2026

“The Whisper in the Veil”

-Thaddeus Crowe 🐦‍⬛

Beneath a dwindling candle’s gleam,
Where shadows stir and softly scheme,

A whisper curls through heavy air,
It hums of grief beyond repair.

The walls remember every sigh,
Each vow that dared to never die,

Yet echoes twist, and voices fade,
Entombed beneath the dust they made.

A clock decays in mournful tone,
Its heart of brass, now flesh and bone;

And from its gears drips time’s black tear,
A dirge for all once wanted here.

I spoke her name, a world away,
The silence grinned its cold dismay;

For love’s pale ghost, with hollow eyes,
Still waits where all remembrance dies.

02/20/2026

Clean Edges

-Thaddeus Crowe 🐦‍⬛

They gave it a name
like a label on a drawer
something clinical
something meant to explain
why the room feels different
from where I’m standing.

I learned early
that feeling is a language
most people speak without thinking.
For me
it arrives translated.
Clear. Precise.
A half-second behind the moment.

I do not drown in storms.
I chart them.
I do not break under pressure.
I become very, very still.

There is a quiet in this wiring
people mistake for absence.
It isn’t empty.
It is ordered.
It is sharp.
It remembers.

I watch the world move loudly
toward things that burn out fast.
I move slower.
Deliberate.
Choosing what deserves
my weight.

Call it distance if you need a word.

I call it living, with clean edges.

02/20/2026

“The Quiet That Stayed”

-Thaddeus Crowe 🐦‍⬛

Beneath the hour’s reluctant toll
I kept my lonely seat,
where candlelight grew thin and pale
and would not keep its heat.

The walls drew close with patient breath,
the air grew strangely tight,
as though the dark itself had weight
and leaned into the night.

I heard no step along the hall,
no hand upon the door,
yet still the silence thickened slow
like blood upon the floor.

O soft and dreadful quiet thing
that settles in the bone,
you do not need a ghost to haunt
when you are left alone.

02/19/2026

02/19/2026