Month: Sep 2020

Blueish

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You’re there when I look at silver cars and bright ads

Covering the walls as I walk home missing you

And it makes me mad.

You’re there when strangers walk behind me in the dark –

Their shadow blends with mine but it fades

And I curse out this farce.

You’re there when I cry on the floor in my kitchen

As the cold seeps through my blueish skin

And I wish these words were never written.

You’re still there when I glance at empty windows.

They reflect my fragile frame, and it’s clear –

The hunger is once again taking me wherever the wind blows.

-JW

Two Morbid Nightmares

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I watched you die last night in my sleep. I wept “take me instead”.

No one seemed to notice the tragedy –

You lying still in your bed.

The covers where mint green and your hands were so cold.

I held onto your pale paper skin for too long,

Exploring it fold by fold.

The sound of my screams awakened me at 5AM this morning.

I hope you’re okay, I don’t do well

With flowers and mourning.

I watched myself die in my sleep two nights back, I was at ease

Because you were the last thing I dreamt of

Before I went to sleep.

What a miserable truth, what a miserably romanticized existence –

Dying is the easiest part,

But it gets difficult when we have to face the distance.

-JW

Alone

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Your clothes reek of angst whenever I touch your insecurities.

The flames fly out of your eyes faster than I can claim impunity.

I joke about cutting you open but you laugh and suck me dry.

I’d let you put a noose around my neck like a high-end tie.

But we trust each other long after the waiters and guests have left.

You scream all morning, I don’t recall the last time I ate or slept.

The bridge of your nose turns crooked when you raise the tone.

We take a swing at each other.

We’re close together. We’re so alone.

-JW

Learning

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I’ve known you since the dawn of time, I’ve known you since beginning.

The layers I take off of you leave my heart open, grinning.

But then you build another one so I keep pulling, spinning.

I’ve known you since the dawn of time, I’ve known you since beginning.

Your eyes are harsh when I am sweet, they’re harsher when I’m happy

But I’d do anything for you, burn bridges and scratch taxis.

The harder your faint shell becomes, the more I call you bratty.

Your eyes are harsh when I am sweet, they’re harsher when I’m happy.

-JW

The Hunt Begins

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Flying down a flight of stairs towards an icy concrete floor.

The author of this storyline feeds on my screams, she wants to hear more.

I break through chalices and chandeliers, the sharp corners leave a mark.

“Honey, watch out for the twists, you might get bitten and it might get dark.”

I’m getting thrown through an open window, tearing up blue curtains.

The pen on the paper trembles. She’s willing to wing it but is she certain?

A dark figure approaches the horizon, handsome and charmingly mean.

“Be still, my heart, be still,” I whisper.

He’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.

-JW

Downwards

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Rolling down a stainless steel mountain made of doubt.

Connection’s kicking in, I’m changing wheels and routes.

Wavy hair falling in my distorted vision, hiding the focus.

Black satin dresses tangled around my ankles.

Each step I take is a bonus.

I might get killed or even buried alive by the author –

These fictional scenes are written to keep me bothered

But my senses keep getting butchered and gutted in the making.

The engine keeps pulsating while I try to escape,

Thoughts and heart racing.

Sunrise is kicking in over the frozen fields like a curse.

If I don’t make it, I hope they ordered a red-coloured hearse.

The faster I go, the more miserable these glass shoes make me feel.

Dragging against the ice and the petrified grass,

Rolling down a mountain of stainless steel.

-JW

Seven / Intruder

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I must have the seven arcs in a story,

Must have a seven step program to glory.

There are seven pages and seven scripts,

Seven ways to pull the same old trick.

Seventeen stooges with velvet guns,

Burning barrels of Seagrams 7 for fun.

The seventh son was the last to survive –

His mother was twenty seven

When she fell on a knife.

Seven hundred soldiers dying in heat.

Vultures watching hungered by the defeat.

Crashing into a wall with a grey 7-seater.

A seven part plan to kill and elect

The new world leader.

-JW

The Next Day’s Paper

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“A Las Vegas dancer using alias Candy remains in serious yet stable condition

After a potential client choked her while hitting her head on the ignition.

The suspect has been identified by the victim as a former acquaintance.

He remains in police custody and under 24/7 surveillance.

A press conference this afternoon will reveal the suspect’s name and age.

The surviving victim brought forward additional accusations

And took the central stage

When she revealed that five years ago she was a witness to an unsolved murder

Committed by the same man in a nearby town.

She claims: “The girl screamed and no one but me heard her.”

This attack matches the pattern of a potential serial killer in our state,

Attacking women by trying to strangle them, using money as bait.

All of the victims were found the morning after the attack, at around 6.

In the nearby towns this phenomena has been nicknamed “Hour X”.”

-JW

Never Hers // Candy

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Saw her walking Sammy Davis Drive,

Black shirt and lighting in her gaze.

Her heels were broken, clock struck five.

She cursed the heat with a joke

About the human race.

The night consumed her with one bite,

Spat out the bones and fake, blue purse.

How do you cope when nothing’s right?

Another fantasy brought to life,

But it was never hers.

With each sunset she loses a fight.

The danger creeps over her while she sleeps.

She’s convinced – the neon will make her bright.

Yet again blood’s leaving her bruised cheeks.

The Mirage fades as the streets reek of freaks,

And she’s back on Sammy Davis Drive again.

Committing to nobody but the original sin.

Heels still broken, the clock strikes six

And she waves the middle finger to the moon

Before falling into the abyss.

-JW

Who Did It

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An ex-boyfriend, a best friend and a former lover walk behind the bars.

She deserved a better crowd than this alliance of faded high school stars.

A sweetheart with golden locks and a smile that could purify gold

Left breathless, left behind to gulp sand like The Dead Sea Scrolls.

Her attacker acted out of passion but was it a one-man job?

The choice to take her out for a last minute show seemed fairly odd.

No evidence linking the best friend to the scene of this brutal crime

But he did act a bit odd when we pointed out holes in his alibi.

A little too heart-broken former lover cried five hours in a row.

He spent the night with three hookers and a holy bag of blow.

We found his stalking equipment down by the old town’s square.

A woman testified seeing him by her window that night

With a camera and an evil glare.

The boyfriend swore they just argued and she left in a rush.

His father was firm when he testified – the recent donation to this lonely town

Wasn’t meant as a sign of “hush”.

More like a warning –

If you have three suspects

You can also find the fourth wind.

So we kept searching.

We heard the son moved to Vegas,

Crashing brothels and bodegas.

An ex-boyfriend, a best friend and a former lover walk free.

They could outrun the system but mind is the only prison

You cannot outflee.

I hope she knows

That justice won’t re-pay the debts they own.

-JW