Month: Feb 2021

The Ghosts Of The Lost Town

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Turquoise dragonflies are surrounding the old lake by the school,

Buzzing around in their silky exoskeletons like wealthy fools.

The ruins beside the coast are sinking shyly into the wet ground

If you dare to step a foot in the clear waters, beware of the hounds.

There used to be a town here, alive, with its pulse beating,

Now a few bricks are left, and painted walls are badly peeling.

Even if the scenery feels haunted, you haven’t seen the worst,

You haven’t stepped through the reeds, haven’t satisfied the thirst.

The sentiment might be numbing but listen carefully as you near –

Those who come back here rarely leave with anything they hold dear.

So when the lake calls and the howling water pulls you with strings,

Let go of the lost town that once ruled you,

Let go of its ghostly kings.

-JW

My Shame

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My shame collects itself from dusty corners,

Frightening the fake gods and the mourners.

It looks through fingers, crumpling my own soul,

Crushing light so tight it turns to coal.

This black dust rains onto the fearful crowds.

“Take back your gloom, don’t you make a sound.”

I still remember how they let me sink,

Water in my nose, no boats or wings.

Their screams disperse in air like autumn mist –

Each one of them once made it on my list.

Now they get to taste these fruits of labour

And I’ll reign like god but never as their saviour.

-JW

Blood Moon Rising

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The red moon is climbing over the abandoned buildings in my backyard,

Spreading its devious glow, smashing all bulbs to dangerous shards.

But when the tranquil starlight touches my empty eye sockets,

Another ambition of mine dies and your greed fills unworthy pockets.

Some black smoke is escaping the nearby chimneys, letting me choke.

“Those city kids get high on fumes,” you always used to joke.

It is quite funny how the smog reminds me of your coldest embraces.

You used to hold me down – one heel on the temple, grin on your two faces.

But they called it a fairytale so I let the carriages run over my feet,

I let the night become my sister and hoped your hate would grow discreet.

The darkness wrapped me like a cloak, suffocated me like boiling syrup.

When I unwrapped all your ingrown chains, they deemed you a cherub.

Still – each time the blood moon rises, I welcome it in my ghost town.

I play with it deceitfully until another naïve morning comes around.

The drops of water hold onto your reflection but I wipe them away.

Sharp edges collect themselves again as my pride gets rebuilt in clay.

-JW

Paper Pedestals

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I wonder whether you romanticize your stolen alibis,

Whether you bathe in the made-up truths

Wishing that they could suffice.

The skin you used to put on is lost, it’s now long gone.

Perhaps you only wore it for the show

Or to hide a billion new wrongs.

Still – your voice comes to me in dreams so I never sleep,

It’s one more memory of safer paths

I’m never meant to own or keep.

Have you felt the hurt that I do, even for a brief moment?

If you keep investing in my downfall,

You might as well fully own it.

And if you harvest your betrayals, please pile them up.

Keep sleeping on those paper pedestals,

Keep climbing until you drop.

-JW

Hexes

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We’re torn between the lines,

With thorns puncturing our sides.

The past seems to be fading,

Losing lines and losing shading.

With the background disappearing

I forget what I’ve been fearing

And I give into your light,

Shoot right up just like a kite.

But the high is too confusing,

Forcing me to face the music,

Hiding sins in champagne glasses,

Stealing dreams and burning castles.

So my words erase your hexes,

Drown them with the circumflexes.

And I pull away my hands,

Let you sink in your dark chants.

-JW

Disintegration Theory

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The tragedy came knocking down cardboard doors,

Breaking jaws and crystal figurines on the floor.

Curtains parted like the seven seas, in synchrony,

And the roof sunk in, uncovering my villainy.

The inked pages absorbed the flooded fields,

Through the chaos we lost all helmets, all shields.

The sun dimmed when it fell towards my neck,

But the others hid me for a blank paycheck.

The red petals went limp, the clouds collapsed,

Mist seeping in cracks, disintegrating me fast.

I held onto my limbs ‘til the sky again inflated.

They can see me struggling,

They must never see me breaking.

-JW

Over The Edge

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I’m dancing near the edge, hanging my frizzy hair over this trench,

Dangling my life in front of a great beast, ready to be fully drenched.

No, the fear I should be feeling avoids me, it doesn’t even bother,

It knows I’m ready to kill for excitement, to betray my own brother.

And maybe I’ve been wrong all this time and the drop will be deadly?

But sensibility’s scary so I keep escaping hearts that once bled me.

Sometimes the way out is testing whether you’ll drown or float,

And the choice can be yours if you don’t erase each and every footnote.

The big unknown has always called for my bones so maybe, just maybe,

I forgive my own debts for once and stop selling out dreams to those

Who will never repay me.

-JW

The Jester

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Dance around my living room, you beautiful fool,

Shatter all the fragile frames, step on all the rules.

Challenge me to jolly fights, break me into half.

When it’s time to feed my pride, please let it starve.

Roll me down the steepest hill you have ever seen,

Laugh a bit but let me cry tears of pure sheen.

Stab the ripest strawberries in the queen’s garden –

When they come for your head, hide under the carpet.

Play with the nitid memories I hide in the closet,

Bring them to the banks and take out a grand deposit.

Just don’t let my spirit fade for a week or two,

Play the jester, be the clown,

Never say the truth.

-JW

The Myth Of Forgiveness

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Maybe I don’t know how to forgive,

Only how to forget all that I had to give.

And perhaps I wasn’t meant to be here,

Wasn’t meant to boil over or sear.

It must look foolish – how I beat on

After being burned by your pale neon.

Somehow the road ahead still unravels

So I cut my feet open on rough gravel.

It hurts just a little more every day,

The fire I carry keeps falling off the tray.

But I stich the nasty wounds up nicely,

Cut open those who try to defy me.

Even when the cross crushes my back

I carry my anger, keep it intact.

Perhaps a quieter time will come,

I’ll make peace with what I can’t outrun.

But if forgiveness is only a myth,

I’ll be sure to find everyone

Who made me take these hits.

-JW

The Sixth Year

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You’re smearing empty words all over the newspapers,

Making me curse loud enough to wake the neighbors.

I haven’t seen your face in six years but I know

You still bring the darkness wherever you go.

And once I was foolish enough to follow the trail,

Despising guardian angels for letting me fail.

Now I see you in a car purchased with blood money,

Bought by selling my hopes out, and ain’t that funny?

Blood’s only thicker than water for the lucky ones,

The roots you laid down in me won’t ever see the sun.

And the faux promises you spilled have evaporated,

They’re sleeping in the shadows, dangerously sedated.

It’s alright though, my rage can escape all your abysses,

But you can’t escape the truth or live without your fixes.

So just pray to the gilded gods that you can make it,

Just pretend one more day that if I can fake it,

You can also fake it.

-JW