Month: Oct 2021

The Manor Chose To Keep Its Silence

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The silence begged me to say by its dim bedside for a moment more.

With its last gurgling breaths, the manor started rotting from the core.

Dirty floors oozed orange and brown puss in the decorated rooms,

The stench was strong enough for the nearby trees to reverse all bloom.

The sounds of the street chimed in like roaring lions looking for prey,

And I could have chosen to fight – but instead I hid my body in the hay.

I watched them devour people, I tasted the blood they volunteered.

The noise grew too loud, so we abandoned those we held dear.

At night I sneaked through the halls, looking for the place silence died.

I thought I remembered the chamber, however, it leaked lullabies.

My thoughts whirled like dust in the wind as I slowly took a step back.

The music came in from every corner, it painted my vision black.

When I finally came to, I could not open my eyes or escape the trap.

My hands were tied behind my back, and a white cat sat in my lap.

Two gargoyles guarded the entrance, stoically holding me hostage.

They knew as well as I did, these captors are cruel to impostors.

For the next five hours I blurred the line between sleep and awareness.

Whenever I woke up, I lost the feeling that I could be fearless.

I heard those villains laughing at me through the chamber walls,

And the sound of their raspy voices made my every emotion small.

When they finally came for me, the manor chose to keep its silence.

It burned down by my side, crumbling under the pressure of tyrants.

They poked out my eyes and cut out my teeth with dull and rusty blades.

As the empty eye sockets leaked crimson, all my fears started to fade.

I dreamed about silence, I prayed for tranquility, just a moment more.

With my last quiet breaths, the sun washed away the horror and gore.

-JW

Hush

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Silver echoes from better times ring like alarms in my head.

No, I cannot stop the sound, I let it paint the corridors red.

Someone is knocking on the kitchen window, but I do not look.

I gather all my arrows, bury the knives and the hooks.

Gloved hands are scratching the glass and pulling the doorknob.

Your breath leaves mist in the crisp air as I silently sob.

We both know you can enter whichever way you please,

But your master taught you better, kill only after you tease.

And I must admit, I almost did not feel the bruise in my thigh.

The high of the hunt is not like any other kind of high.

My vision is blurry when I lie on the frozen bathroom floor,

I am ready to give in, yet I am ready to hurt you some more.

Your eyes peek in between the curtains and the dirty shades,

You want me to hear you slowly sharpening the rusty blade.

But my innocence traps your boiling blood and ghouls outside.

I am out of shortcuts, and you have nowhere else to hide.

Crimson echoes from a dying future hug my weak neck.

No, I cannot keep me eyes open, cannot save this wreck.

Somebody calls my name as I drift off with my selfish thoughts.

I release my prisoners, ending all the wars I have fought.

-JW

Love

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You boiled me down to epithets and false narratives.

In your mind, it made sense to make me into a negative,

A burden on your neck, dead weight in your pockets,

Someone with the same flame as yours in her eye sockets.

You wrapped their tongues around my collapsing lungs,

All for a hope that somebody else will keep you young.

But I figured as much, never trust a negligent killer.

Every word you have said to me has been a silence-filler.

You reduced my fuming emotions to facts and figures.

As I went numb, you got ready to pull the last trigger.

Yet, the weight of my love will live, it will be reborn too,

And even in death my cold eyes will forever scorn you.

-JW

Lucille’s Dream

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You haunt the halls I walked last year,

You leave them shaking in cold fear.

The walls that built us crumble down,

Leaving bright rust on our crowns.

I bind you with the spells and records,

They blind you with the fruit nectar.

Love, you can find a home in me,

Please do not drink the poisoned tea.

You fear the hands which you once loved,

You buried all our turtle doves.

The chariots that brought you here

Now take your bones to rest, my dear.

-JW

Dead Of Night

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Darling, we only exist on other people’s tongues,

We mix with their saliva and slide between their fangs.

They are a famished crowd, but we feed them well,

And the darker our lives get, the more we sell.

Darling, we exist in old mirrors in their rooms,

We watch as young brides are killed by their grooms.

One day a wise lady will smash the silver surface,

Leave her man crying and burning the doormats.

But it will be an illusion, darling, need not worry.

We will bathe their impure souls in morning glory.

Our story is like Dorian’s, devilishly young.

Darling, we only live beneath other people’s tongues.

-JW

The Haunting

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The manor door creeps open as the cold breeze shuffles red leaves.

Pale moon sneaks through the branches, it watches the lake breathe.

I walk to the old cemetery and learn every gravestone by heart.

The greenhouse keeps calling me, but my brain is covered in darts.

The pain pushes through the skull and breathes on my trembling spine,

I hear shadows in the distance whispering, “she is mine, mine, mine”.

Silky windows stare back at me like a nightmare encapsulated,

But every time I blink, the faces of the ghouls grow more faded.

And the manor door shuts behind me like a cold and sudden goodbye.

Dying stars stare back at my wide eyes, singing a haunting lullaby.

-JW

The Old Ways

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You lit black torches in the dark room as I had a blindfold over my eyes.

The dry flowers in the corners grinned, the stench kept away fruit flies.

My skin lost all its pattern when the moon climbed over the horizon,

Grey creatures yelled into my scared face, asking what I was hiding.

They kept me chained to a heavy bed until my limbs felt defenseless.

I cried loud when I tried to escape, so they burned down the fences.

A demon wept in the closet, it tried hard to break my soul in half.

My lungs screeched and growled until I spooked it away with my laugh.

You lit my palms on fire and caressed my hair as the room shook.

The salt on the doorstep ignited, burning down your notes and books.

I looked at the face of my own failure and could not hide a smile.

There has been a beast inside of me, it has been there for a while.

-JW

You

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It is not enough for me to only see you wrapped in the shadows.

As the rain falls through the dark, your voice makes me hollow.

It is not enough for me to only chase you in the palest reflections.

As the candlelight bridges rivers, I have so much spare affection.

It is you I want, it is you I chase like a long forgotten lullaby.

As I wrap my hands around their necks, you are my final alibi.

It is clear – even the creases in your dress are flirting with me.

As you walk home each obscure night, I pray for your courtesy.

It is not a secret, you want me to step into the darkness with you.

As the fog clears, your irises are painted in the softest of hues.

It is not enough for me to only see you wrapped in vibrant life.

As the sun hides, I take your limp body back into the deep night.

-JW

Crimson Peak

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The bottom of your beige dress leaks bright crimson on the floor,

And your velvet shoes leave red footprints by the bedroom door.

The voices follow, they swing steadily like oak branches in the wind.

You lock your chambers and kill the lights, but still hear their hymns.

There are strangers by the window, cursing out your family name,

And the night will not be over until your sheets drip in shame.

The clock in the study counts down bodies buried in the backyard,

Their ghosts float over you, shooting daggers at your naïve heart.

The storm roars as snowflakes sneak through the holes in your roof.

All the candles start burning at once, leading you towards proof.

But you knew for a while, you just chose to breathe in love fumes,

And the night will not be over until you save the souls of the doomed.

-JW

The Guilty

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Their tongues snake around my ankles, hissing angrily.

I near the fire until the sparks illuminate my fragility.

No, they cannot take it, I must keep it in my pockets,

Must re-bury my scorched heart in a box and lock it.

We are all guilty here, but I do not want their venom.

I take their flasks, then spill them all over my denim.

It angers the snake pit, it adds fuel to the flame,

And they push me into the light, into my hidden blame.

I pull back from the warmth and let them bite down,

Their teeth clack on my skin, and it shakes the town.

My knees are glued to the ground as I give up the power,

Waiting for them to finally crush me and then devour.

Instead, I see the guilt evaporate from my bruised skin,

As someone whispers, “We cannot let the guiltless win.”

-JW