Month: Apr 2021

The Fangs Of Spring

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The first breath of spring pushes its fangs into the city.

It’s not a question of why, it’s a question of when it’ll hit me

That not a single blood cell of mine remembers your venom

And the gashes in my chest no longer open if you tear them.

Perhaps time heals all but pure spite cures in leaps –

No wonder tears dry faster when the rosy fog leaves.

I keep driving past the places where you made me overflow

And now they smell like gasoline, the warning sign of a foe.

It might seem foolish but I’ve been walking by your street

Hoping that I get a chance to bring you the desert heat

Just like you did, shamelessly thinking you’re being witty…

The first breath of spring pushes its fangs into the city.

-JW

Burning From Both Ends

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Time only stops for those who outrun it, no wonder this city doesn’t age.

These days are all the yesterdays, and tomorrow’s locked in a silver cage.

We rush down the boulevards, around the parks and through tall buildings,

The concrete in our lungs feels sweeter than betrayals or deserved killings.

But the air keeps changing its flow through the spaces we once worshiped.

All the unsteady boats in our neon ports look more like grey warships.

And the catacombs of our minds leak like candles burning from both ends.

The towers bend and the walls are closing in on those who swore to defend.

“If you have the courage, then I also have the courage to run even faster,”

We try to calm ourselves with these phrases to please the blue masters.

Yet – time only chases those who outrun it, no wonder we carry this rage.

All our yesterdays melt into blurry mist and the time is knocking again,

Asking to turn the next page.

-JW

Moving On

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Wasn’t I moving on before I saw you in the midnight train?

Wasn’t I looking out for myself?

Why am I here, mixing tears with the rain?

In times like these I question whether this cycle will end

With me still being able to fix it

And call my broken body a friend.

Or perhaps I’ll strangle myself with sentences never spoken

Until I’m broken and you’re broken,

We’ll wear it as a token.

But together we’re much number than when we’re alone

So I let the train pass to save my bones.

I don’t pick up the phone.

-JW

The Silence Roams The Hills

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Time flies when you don’t choke on words never said.

But we still do it – choose to make our own death beds

By silencing the little truths that grow into avalanches,

Ready to break down fences and snap dry branches.

And the silence roams the hills, it gains speed and weight.

It echoes through trenches like a loose bullet

You caught way too late.

-JW

Three Days

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Three days from now a revelation will crush your wings,

And the masks you put on will slide away with the winds.

You told me there’s no way to predict what’s yet to come

But I see your future in broken bottles of rum.

Three days from now a tragedy will settle your temper,

You’ll be hiding in the shadows, telling me to call later.

We once promised to never say goodbye because of fear

But ships sink between uncertainties, it’s crystal clear,

And three days from now the meanest thunder will strike,

I’ll say my prewritten apologies and you’ll call it a night.

The moon will dance just one more waltz in our hair

As you fade into the sunrise like the early summer air.

-JW

The Hippodrome

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In between the most private of moments the camera flashes bring me home.

The curtains I’ve wrapped around myself don’t hide me from the Hippodrome.

But these horses keep dragging the time faster and faster down the streets,

And I’m spinning in frantic circles to find the escape or just an empty seat.

Lights blur my vision as they’re leaking neon on my darkest dancing shoes.

I can’t run away now, the footsteps I leave are sparkling in pinks and blues.

If I survive one more night, then maybe their greed will lose its sizzling heat,

Or maybe it’ll scorch my scars until I bleed dry without missing a beat.

The choice lies down on my neck as all the flashes melt into a single one,

A pulsating array of stars emerge from the horizon, the prize yet to be won.

Between the most public of shunnings, the raindrops bring me back to life.

I let the curtains drop and blind the crowds that once kicked me down

And still took a bite.

-JW

What Is It You Truly Treasure?

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The vulnerability in my thighs want to escape through the floor,

It is grasping my feet, telling lies, my heaven and hell are torn.

And the perfection you keep assigning to me hurts, it’s so sore,

But you just push through the surfaces and tell me to count to four.

The counter is broken, darling, and so is my steady patience,

There’s nothing left in me that tolerates you, nothing gracious,

And I wonder whether my wishes ever really crossed your mind

Because you only show those puppy eyes when you apologize.

But it’s all about the power and not about being grateful,

It’s about being wickedly sour, about being too distasteful.

You bring the tenderness for everyone’s viewing pleasure.

When I hide away the teeth, that’s when you call me a treasure.

What is it you truly treasure, is it a quality or a measure?

Do my eyes add some relief to this equation or only pressure?

But it’s still a dream of mine to figure your dominance out.

You’ve lived like this for way too long and way too proud.

So I let you run faster, I let you trip over your confidence

‘Til you realize you’re alone and I’m not your last confidant.

-JW

Glass Limousine

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I see my refection in store windows and taxis,

It would be a lie if I told you it’s not taxing

And it would be a travesty to tell you I can sleep

When I’ve spent years driving this glass limousine.

Everyone’s seen the uphill battles in real time,

Cheered for the downfalls, paid for some new grime.

The climb is what really bores them to death

So they clap way too loud, and I take it as a threat.

But while they’re observing, I thrive in the blind spots,

I build a life out of fumes in case this car stops.

One day they’ll run out of gasoline to feed it,

One day it’ll devour all these low-hanging people.

Until then I keep driving, hiding weapons under covers,

And I hold my hope close like a hopeless lover.

I still see my reflection in chic silverware and screens

But it would be a lie if I told you that nowadays

I don’t also see it raindrops and trees.

-JW

Osmium Head

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The tiredness pulls my lead limbs towards the ground,

Like a form of gravity that’s unspoken, yet unfound.

The strings that tie my will together weaken each day

And I hope they don’t snap but it’s too late to pray.

I chase down the healers, I seek out the warlocks –

They treat my burning tears like a poison hemlock.

I look for old scrolls in the most secret of folders,

The coldness in my spine slides up to the shoulders

As I turn the last page and there’s nothing to save me.

My osmium head keeps sinking faster in this dark sea.

The mirror image trembles, each night it grows fainter,

My body is the canvas and the heaviness – its painter.

-JW

No Roots In This Land

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Pure cherry kisses lost between the winds.

We hide the red in our cheeks

And blood on our chins.

But the sun won’t raise again if we stay,

If we silently wait for our shins

To get stuck in the clay.

So your eyes well up with muddy waters,

My chest is full of sharp pins

As I’m cursing the fathers.

And then we’re torn apart by the sinking sand.

Still – we know that it’s better

Than laying down roots in this land.

-JW