I looked through the oblivion,
And the rage I found still follows me.
It encapsulates my rotten core,
It drowns me when I fall asleep.
But I can never keep my secrets,
Even with the blades nearby.
Right at the corners of my mind
Muck monsters sing me lullabies.
My vessels punch a hole in me
Right when the darkness reappears.
The oblivion looks back at me,
Inflating all my sharpest fears.
-JW
Every thought dripping out of my bleeding head falls onto the pavement.
It keeps getting lost in translation,
Keeps getting intertwined in noisy brawls for cheap entertainment.
Maybe it is my imagination telling you to listen up,
Even though I know you will ignore it.
So, I will drain your memory in long ruptured cups.
But I will not pass your house without swiping away an inky regret –
There is something about us I still hold dear…
Do not wait me to spill it, do not hold your breath.
You know we made bridges crumble with the acid rivers we cried.
Remember when they used to call us inconvenient?
Even though I could swear to the heavens we tried.
And now I am smearing my thoughts on the sidewalk where we said our farewells.
I know you come here too when they are not looking.
(Do you also daydream you could go back and choose hell?)
Give me a sign and I will make the booking.
As usual, I will never tell.
-JW
You set fire to the hills I nourished back to life,
You poisoned the rivers and sharpened the knives.
In the grand confusion, I gave up all my reason
And watched as the smoke turned darker each season.
The greenery grew paler with each word you spoke.
I knew there was no escape, so I became a ghost –
A fantasy, a tale to tell kids in winter evenings.
You liquidated my story, changed its real meaning.
As I stood in the dust of what was once a garden,
You said those undying words:
“One more chance to ask for a pardon.”
-JW
The tree lines become crooked
As I step in their direction.
I know my crimes have been lurid
But I could use some protection.
The moss hides from my boots,
It crawls away and screams.
My hair entangles with roots
As leaves hide the light beams.
I still carry on, I fight them,
Yet – the thorns gash my ankles.
The bags feel ten pounds lighter,
Still, the air bites and rankles.
The exit must be close,
I can hear the river floating nearby.
Branches hold onto my clothes,
But I push forward
With one last battle cry.
-JW
I write about you as a ghost story from my past
Even when you are a part of my future.
I act nostalgic, hoping this will pass,
But nature can never beat nurture.
When I try to run away, the map changes,
The road spins underneath my feet.
My compass hides between sages,
It misdirects me toward defeat.
And I still write about you in past tenses,
I pretend it is my sentiment talking –
Even when I still wear your rosy lenses,
Even when you catch me sleepwalking.
Yet, I still sneak out every evening.
The tree line twists and blocks my way.
Despite my legs once again bleeding,
I reach for the sunset and scarlet red rays.
Anew I write like you never existed.
The words mourn my disoriented truth.
I wish I could run but my path is twisted,
I know it is always tied to you.
-JW
My head creaks like the stairs of a haunted mansion.
It’s always my fault when I crumble,
It’s my fault if I call out the pretention.
The mind is a revolving door, it turns in twisted circles.
My nausea is building quickly
As the world illuminates like a circus.
And the tension in my neck is crawling up the spine.
Why do I suffer for their naive mistakes
If I can suffer for mine?
I wait patiently but I bet they won’t tell me what’s wrong.
The pain spreads in seven dimensions,
But they beg me to hold on.
My skin turns ghostly, and my eyes roll back into my skull.
One last heartbeat, one more breath,
And all goes dull.
-JW
The time runs by,
And I can hear myself ticking.
It is this broken clock within,
It is this faded clipping
That tells me smudged lies
And calls peace a compromise.
But I am running low in ink,
Graphite will not suffice.
Minutes pass in a blink.
I am losing the disguise,
Crouched over the kitchen sink,
Pulling out my own eyes.
And the time runs by,
I can hear myself clicking.
My hourglass cracks into two,
My memories start slipping.
-JW
Your voice felt like ice water on my warm skin on a summer day.
As you were approaching me, they warned you –
But you still found a way.
Your words untangled my worries, they soothed the burns and aches.
I kept on wondering whether you made it in time
Or was it way too late.
Your scent wrapped around us like an ungodly string, indestructible…
Little did I know back then –
Even promises can turn cold and corruptible.
Your eyes gave me shelter but the winds were still way too biting.
My fingers held onto your cheeks for hours.
Still, you let them take me without fighting.
-JW
Once again, I am burning alive between two gospels and a lie.
Your eyes tell me adventures I wish I were naïve enough to try.
The heat engulfs my left lung when you ask if I am ready.
To spite my consciousness, I drop into the flames, hot and heady.
I heard they used to call you unsteady, what a loud falsity.
They probably confuse every fire with misunderstood honesty.
And my palms shiver as I reach out but the heat is shaking too –
Cannot help but wonder if you ever knew
How I incinerated for you.
-JW
The cold water never truly invigorates me.
I keep comparing everyone else to you.
After a month they get tired of my company.
But, baby, believe me – I do too.
Somehow it is always your opinion
That stays much closer to the truth.
I counted your mistakes and got to a million.
I still miss the way you played a brute.
But even though the hope is fading,
My head is still under the water, so frozen.
They said my lips were not for waiting,
They called my heart an endless ocean.
Somehow you knew it was a lie.
Still, you watched as my face turned blue.
The cold water never got me high.
But, baby, believe me – never did you.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 