My Dust

Photo by Victor L.

What’s the use of your wise reflections

If you color me with invisible paint?

These mirrors twist me in cruel angles

While you observe me like a saint.

Your sage green eyes stay anchored.

They chew right through my pale skin.

Was there really me before you?

Did you make me into a scarlet sin?

I don’t know if my breath matters,

And you choose to dodge the question.

Your words flow like great rivers,

But I’m not one of your obsessions.

So, why do you call me back?

My outlines are almost transparent.

One day I’ll fade with the winds,

And my dust will be your death warrant.

-Jackie

Back To Normal

Photo by Essow

I look for stars in the sky above your building,

But the planes have occupied the velvet night.

Cold thoughts have replaced all of my feelings,

And I might get to breathe if I tame my might.

Blank stares shoot back at me like red lasers,

And I wish someone told me to run for cover.

Their rules and restrictions cut like razors,

But at this point pain is just one of my lovers.

I do not ask why the trees keep losing color.

The breaths I take remain small and measured.

Every song they play turns my path duller.

Soon I will forget all about these pleasures.

-Jackie

Twist The Blade

Photo by Max Ravier

While some pray each night for a shot at forgetting me,

You wave your long flag of moral purity.

While they gift their love in these silver screen boxes,

You speak in half-truths and paradoxes.

But you have all the time in the world to erase me,

To cover my thorns in dying daisies.

You can be the first one to call my words shallow

While truth is a pill you cannot swallow.

Still, I broke the spell that kept us civil.

Soon enough the green leaves shriveled.

While you were patting yourself on the shoulder,

The home we built, it artfully smoldered.

You found better hobbies on every street corner

As I was crossing the northern border.

Now you are worlds away busy forgetting me,

And nothingness tastes a lot like jealousy.

Strangers fill my time, thinking I feel great.

I just want you to twist the blade.

-Jackie

Whispers

Photo by Jay-r Alvarez

The defeated road below my feet echoes these whispers.

They circle me like vultures as their bloody feathers glisten.

My palms are pressed against my ears, but there is no use.

In a moment or two, they will take my pride and shoes.

And I know exactly what they want to steal from my skull.

They notice how my stormy eyes have lost their stale lull.

But their guesses all lead back to gossip columns and lies.

I could not change their minds no matter how hard I tried.

These whispers snake around me with their aching hunger,

Trying to confuse me into thinking I should be a hunter.

They seek stories of paramours, they want some naïve lust.

But I am not a kid, and there is only rage below the dust.

-Jackie

In This House

Photo by Ron Lach

In my house of mirrors, time slows when I talk,

And the writing on the walls drips boiling chalk.

Ancient terrors sneak out of every reflection.

Let their teeth consume you section by section.

In this house of dim lighting, nobody ever speaks.

We scream as blue hours form blurry weeks.

The beasts we nurture inside our own chests

Come out to play with the venomous pests.

In our house of sharp edges, silence prevails.

We erase the news and blow up the mail.

Candlelit rooms keep their hexes and ghouls,

And you must let them turn you into a fool.

-Jackie

A Life Of Pleasure

Photo by Hasan Muneer

Tired taxis shoot down the constantly sleepy city streets,

They take my fading carcass home as it bends in defeat.

The passersby stare, but no one helps me out with the keys.

I wish somebody noticed that these days I barely breathe.

My life of pleasure bleeds through my fluttering eyelids,

And I know that good people must suffer in glossy silence.

But would it be so wrong to drown all of the autopilots?

These joyless smiles pass by my eyes like floating islands.

I just want a little taste of what the other side holds.

It must feel more than delightful to always fit the mold.

My eccentric existence is rosy, but it is covered in mold,

And my mind is a sour substance, red and uncontrolled.

-Jackie

Enter My Carnival

Photo by Shane Aldendorff

If you aren’t afraid to burn, come and enter my carnival.

Sit down and stay still, don’t you tease the carnivores.

If you like a dash of frights, come and take this final ride,

And if you exit in one piece, you had nothing left to hide.

The house of mirrors will treat you to a bitter coat of truth.

Pickpockets will rob you blind and feed you witches’ brew.

You will beg me stop the chaos, but I will simply ignore it.

Your breath will fade away with the first birds in the morning.

-Jackie

Only Liars

Photo by Zhaocan Li

I miss you in my bones when you’re standing right here.

You talk without blinking and you laugh without fear.

These days you are only a name and an address.

I’m frightened to leave you, so I just get undressed.

These lines that we read get swallowed by mirrors.

You’re wiser than me but you can’t see much clearer.

If it wasn’t in the cards, why did we press it?

This forbidden fruit is rotten, but the taste is possessive.

You’re slipping through the cracks in the kitchen floor,

And I might shatter if I don’t feel adored.

This balancing act is wearing out our common sense.

Only liars claim that love feels like its godsent.

-Jackie

Where Life Goes To Die

Photo by Lisa Fotios

Deep in my webs, where only spiders can reach,

I know I am forlorn.

No need to say your speech.

Somewhere in my skull a new dawn always breaks.

Please leave me behind,

Do not touch the brakes.

The ledge always tempts me, it calls my name.

I want to catch that high,

Trap it in a frame.

Yet, deep in my desert, where life goes to die,

I know I stand alone.

No need for you to cry.

-Jackie

House Of Mirrors

Photo by Darya Sannikova

I hide under cheap pseudonyms to anonymize my growing pain,

Honesty smothers me in my sleep like some glassy cellophane.

I seek out watery love that won’t bruise me and won’t stain.

The covers of my book are closing, but I don’t want to die in vain.

I walk my road like there is no bigger curse than leaving a mark.

The greyness has crooked teeth, and they tend to leave deep scars,

But I would rather stay distorted, I would rather stay in the dark.

My mirrors are all painted over, and my heart is colder than Mars.

-Jackie