Month: Sep 2020

The Silver Age

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Photo by Flora Westbrook from Pexels

A new foggy moon rises above the city, it burns like acid

And it runs on pain we’re swallowing to keep ourselves gaslit.

There aren’t any blushing faces, only grey wooden sculptures

Carved out of those of us who forgot when to unfollow the culture.

Enchanted silver surfaces set out as traps –

We do know better but we still give in,

We burn the books and the maps.

A new Gravitron sun spins around us making the city dizzy

And it runs on the acid we’re spitting up to pretend we’re busy.

No eyes looking up in the streets, just crowds blending together,

Dragging their feet towards the buzz of heads being severed.

Enchanted silver surfaces set out as traps –

We do know better but we still give in,

We burn the books and the maps.

-JW

Reunited

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Photo by Flora Westbrook from Pexels

There are abandoned factory buildings as far as I can see,

There are leaves red as blood on a knife after a killing spree.

There are winds as cold as sin, but warmer than my hands

And there are shackles on my ankles, imported from France.

The city I’ve long forgotten stands before me so tall.

The city that branded me rotten, the place that shrunk me small.

Each wall explodes dust and it colours my skin oddly grey.

Each wall in this city views its visitors as an overdue prey.

I’m shoved into my room, put under a neon microscope lens.

The gates, doors and bridges are shut behind me

And I’m back in Ante.

No memories, no joy and no friends.

-JW

Apathy 101

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Photo by Flora Westbrook from Pexels

I bid my soul to the devil to relieve me of the pressure

And I begged the gods to take me.

They said they don’t deal with the fractured.

I don’t want to be unthankful, I just don’t think I’m alright

Because whenever the sun sets again

I’m crying for the dying night.

I waltz around rooms to walk out the sinister notions.

Churches crumble before my eyes,

I’m stale, envying those in motion.

And the silver lights of the forgotten city call for me…

I’m too weak to hold back the tears.

To everyone I knew – sorry for the apathy.

-JW

Deleted

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Photo by Flora Westbrook from Pexels

I never felt safe while falling for you,

The fumes kept poisoning my lungs.

But I’ve found safety in your love

While the rest of the world

Is speaking in tongues.

I never felt cherished being by your side.

The darkness you cast broke me down –

Yet I felt lonely without your devotion

So I dropped my sword

And picked up your crown.

I never counted to seven before jumping

But I stepped on the ledge, eyes shut.

We’ve found something bigger than a moment.

Let me kneel on the ledge,

Let me delete all the rut.

-JW

Static

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Photo by Flora Westbrook from Pexels

I’m taking back what I gave you,

I’m breaking my own fingers

Because I betrayed you.

The cuffs on my wrists dig into skin,

The chain on my neck lingers

And my head’s made of tin.

You’re looking through the screen, ecstatic,

You’re laughter falls flat on deaf ears.

All I hear is static.

There’s something evil in your grin,

There’s a melody I find dear…

It’s just me against your eyes

And I can’t win.

-JW

New Love

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I’m waiting for the authors to take me out, to save me

Before I drive too far down the road of undeserved misery,

Before they can blame me.

I kick the walls but the anger doesn’t help my chances

Of getting out alive, before my heart rots too far

Numbing all romances.

I cut open the pillows, I paint over the gilded walls

With cheap crayons and lipstick, with blood

As screams echo in halls.

I’m pleading with whoever wrote it to stop this

But the fog keeps entering through cracks in the window

And I’m inhaling hubris.

I dig my nails into the freezing skin and I wait, wait…

With the sound of the door unlocking comes my dead end,

New love emerges from all the hate.

-JW

Forbidden

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Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels

Put your hand on my chest,

Dance with me through the waves

And listen to how my skin sheds

From the agony of your flames.

Put your hand on my ribs,

Feel how they greet you with ease

Don’t pull away, don’t make any bids

To crown me the queen of peace.

Put your hand on my chin,

Shake out the shadows of shame

But don’t let my hot breath win

Unless you’re okay to be tamed.

Put your hand on my lips,

Pull it away with fright.

Touch my skin where it rips

In this cold, forbidden night.

-JW

Near

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We saw each other after months of mourning and poorly hidden pain.

It was never the same but it tasted even better out there in the rain.

You’re the addiction I can’t get over, and I’m making you obsessed.

Perhaps this path we’re going down is only a way we confess?

I don’t mind being honest around you but the parties involved don’t agree.

The distress I hid to make them like you is a treason in first degree.

And I still want you so tear me apart with all the dull insults and fear.

They reach for me and they beg me to stop,

But I don’t hear when you’re near.

-JW

Future Regret

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He takes a step closer and puts his arm on my waist.

“All the time I’ve spent with you is truly a waste.”

He wraps around my thighs unleashing butterflies.

“Each time I sink into your eyes, another dream dies.”

He presses his nails into my chest and I must confess.

“I was forced into this narrative, don’t yell or call the press.”

He takes a step back and I fall on my knees, out of breath.

“All this time I thought it was love,

Turns out it was future regret.”

-JW

The 4th Stage

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Photo by Flora Westbrook from Pexels

The door is too far for me to reach.

“Please come and save me,

Please, baby, preach.”

The bed is too warm, it burns like hell.

The head is so heavy,

It’s empty as well.

And I want to crumble in your arms

But the verdict’s in –

You can only do harm.

My left shoulder’s numb under the weight.

… So I can’t move on.

I have to lie in wait.

My eyes watch the time slowly pass.

I imagine you next to me,

Barefoot on grass.

But the door is too far for me to reach.

“Please come and save me,

Please, baby, preach.”

-JW