Month: Oct 2020

December

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Nothing but snow and cigarette smoke as far as I can see.

Ice crunching under the weight of my feet trying to flee.

My gloves dirty, covered in ash and low-end mascara tears.

Nothing but the snow, nothing but a hope way too sheer.

The trees growl under the weight of the wind, I stand back.

It shakes the scenery, it crumbles and covers the tracks.

The cold pinches my nose but I’m far too gone to feel it,

There’s a beast inside of my throat, it guides my feelings.

Grey clouds peak through the branches, they hide the sun.

My mouth burns in flames bright yellow, my skin’s overdone.

I see flowers peeking through the moss, touching my shoes –

My body collapses in the wintery fields, it can’t take the abuse.

-JW

Part IV: After the heist

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We’re hiding in sketchy houses, digging through rusty mailboxes,

Burning bonfires indoors and only surviving through some proxies.

Her hair on my stomach, she’s counting what we’ve finally earned.

I’m watching with a knot in my stomach, I’m seeing she’s not concerned.

My fingertips pulsate on the skin of my lover, I’m burning alive.

An adrenaline rush captures me, take a knee or a shameful nosedive.

The roof of this shack we’re living in leans on my last sane bone,

The fridge is still empty, even after we’ve gotten enough for the crown.

But the green hair is gone, so are the goons,

Only a brown-haired girl in front of me,

A gun encrusted with runes.

And she wants the riches, not the love I offered.

I reach for the door leading to the river.

The bullet sprints as I topple.

-JW

Part III: A Memory

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Always a cliffhanger, another drop of anxious energy in an ocean.

Misdirected anger, passive aggressive comments mixed in the stress potion

And mismanaged days with rights turned sour and disgustingly wrong.

Did I hear you correctly, is my compliance coming off too strong?

Misdemeanours, ironic chuckles, severed ties with reality and truth.

I float in this dirty water because I choose to keep my eyes on you.

But you’ve been swallowed by the cloudy liquids and I’m curious –

Why do I choose to stay knee-deep in the mud, burnt-out and furious?

-JW

Part II: The night of the heist

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We’re hanging out of the eleventh storey window,

Spine tingling from adrenaline and impostor syndrome.

Our legs are heavy but our thighs aren’t shy.

We’re getting drunk on all the things that money can’t buy.

And the seventh heaven seems near when you’re here,

When you’re wrapping around me, I become a seer.

There’s glass on the floor but we’re careful while walking.

No deep feelings, no talk of romance, no naïve falling.

I disguise what’s left of my confidence as a joke

But you climb right over the fiction.

We’re so blissful yet broke.

“It’s the night of the heist, baby, don’t you worry one bit,

Tomorrow we’re gonna burn each stained seat where they sit.”

-JW

Part I: Death Herself

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I’d drown myself in the river to keep you safe from my tantrums.

I’d drag myself down stairwells straight to the bottom,

Through fiends and phantoms.

There are lengths I’d go for every single soul, and then there’s you,

Dressed in white, soaking wet, smiling at me from the doorstep.

Oh, I wish you knew.

You’re just as beautiful as death herself, just as unavoidable.

I can only breathe in whilst sinking in your dominant gaze.

I’d stop but I’m incapable.

The rays play with your cheeks and I’m high, more than smitten.

Your eyes glued to my chest like you can hear my heart pounding,

Like this was pre-written.

Long green hair and the warmest eyes to match this dying winter.

I drown myself in your presence, and once my lungs fill with rage

I crush my heart on splinters.

-JW

Part V: See you later, my love

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And the weight of your eyes crushing me will carry my body down the current.

The rage of our confrontation will bury my ghost deep in rivers stained like currants.

I’ll patiently wait on the other side if that’s what you ask for, if it cures you.

You might stick to your guns but sooner or later you’ll need someone who adores you.

And you might punch a hole in the wall or your own reflection in the rear-view mirror,

The one I gave you three weeks ago when you claimed you wanted to see the life clearer.

But now you don’t think of my little gifts as a promise anymore, it’s all gone.

The magic dust has settled on surfaces becoming pain you can’t shift or turn.

-JW

Unnoticed

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I see you cry out in the fairest of mornings

But I don’t hear, I don’t empathize.

I’ve had my fair share of mournings.

The tears don’t flow in a rhythm and I wonder –

Why were you mean to me

When you’re the one torn asunder.

I feel the blood on my hands dry seamlessly.

Even if I don’t remember what I’ve done,

I won’t bother with shame and secrecy.

I see another one cry out in a pale, dull morning.

But I still ignore, I can’t empathize

With your pain –

So deserved, so unavoidable, so burning.

-JW

Behind Church Walls

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Do you think I regret what I’ve grown into?

Do you think I’ve cried over the graves

That I’ve led to?

But do you think I forget where I come from?

Do you think I’ve kneeled in a mass

For thee I never outrun?

You’re disgusted but jealous at the same time,

You’d buy a life like mine

For a Judas dime.

And a cross or holy water won’t really do,

A burning sensation won’t either.

Oh, I pity you.

-JW

Capture

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Helicopters and stiff winds messing up my hair.

Bright lights, red and blue, chanting:

“She didn’t fight fair.”

Ammunition, cold triggers and frustration.

I hear you saying my first name,

Reciting laws and proclamations.

Three legged creatures from hell and purple sky

Melting into my pupils.

“She won’t be taken alive.”

Yells, bangs, shots that cannot be taken back…

It’s off to the races, I keep racing.

The road ahead is losing its track.

-JW

Place Your Bets

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The game seems too easy,

It can’t be this simple.

You show him you charms,

Cover desires with a wimple.

The game is too wicked,

It can’t be this haunted.

You smile while he begs

But you’re what he wanted.

The game feels too gentle,

It can’t be this touchy.

You wrap him up tight,

Still they brand you too raunchy.

The game tastes too sour,

It can’t be this addicting.

You keep equating your high

With the lungs you’re restricting.

The game feels like a fraud,

It can’t be this corrupt.

Or could it be and I’m lucky?

If so, I beg you not to act shocked.

-JW