Author: jackiewrightauthor

Seven Feet: Candy’s Monologue

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Seven feet of sand was never quite enough to bury my pride.

Half a dozen sprained ankles on dreamy boulevards, but I’m there for the ride.

The thirst is pumping my vessels, it gets the blood rushing –

And the spring smells funny, so candy-like. Am I blushing?

Sweet sugar coats my fingers, oh man, I’m just shooting my shot.

Don’t be the saint – save the prayers and hymns, and whatnots.

You can’t deny my blame but I carry the scarlet letter well.

The Central Park Salinger wrote about is long gone, but so is the spell –

The charm, the colors, the old ways… All soaked in champagne.

Tinsel-filled parties taste so bittersweet, and they end in migraines.

But I’ll let you take a number, sorry it’s colored in blood barely dried –

Seven feet of sand was never quite enough to bury my pride.

-JW

April

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Whenever April comes around, I have this need to sleep by an open window.

The air is so heated and charged, I can’t brush it off. I need to feel the wind blow.

The fire in my bones is harsh to my body, I want the power to go out with a bang.

Whenever April comes around, another lover becomes a treat to my hungry fangs.

I’ve been dying of thirst for a cool spring breeze since I was bitterly seventeen.

No psychic wise enough, no fortune teller prosperous enough to crack my spleen –

But maybe a genie in the bottom of the bottle will tell another revolting story.

I wish I could stand up a little bit taller instead of being sorry.

We’re a dying breed, and we’re choking on antimony.

Whenever April comes, my insides throw a funeral – and I’m leading the ceremony.

-JW

Trigger

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No longer noticing airplanes over your house, it’s lonely these days.

The sky is empty. Only two pink clouds and a few lost sunrays.

Used to imagine that planes were stars guarding your thoughts.

Wished on a shooting hope but it didn’t work.

Horizon is covered in blank spots. A goddamn mirage.

The view out of my window seemed picturesque back then.

For a stranger passing it looked like a dollhouse, time and again.

Now the walls are too pale and the dust settles on my skin.

I’m pulling my hand away from the trigger so often –

Not often enough, much to my own chagrin.

The sunset feels Photoshopped, and I don’t know what to say.

For the first time I wanted to take your hand, I wanted to stay.

Now my foolish body is filled with butterflies with nowhere to run.

We might not have the stars or the airplanes, and screw that –

I really wish that I’m still the only one.

-JW

Quitting

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They say: “I wish you truly saw yourself and your worth.”

And no matter how I swear that I do, they remain deaf

When I respond – I’m not self-conscious, I’m just bored,

They say: “I wish you weren’t a perfectionist, that’s so destructive.”

Not a single day they’ve chased anything they believed in

But they’re teaching me how to be productive?

They say: “I have this big dream, brighter than yours, and I’ll make it work.”

No backbone, no life lessons, no time for my small successes.

But they’re always surprised that I listen to them with an obvious smirk.

They say: “I don’t have time right now but when I do, I’ll force myself back into your life as if your universe revolves around me. Doesn’t it? Please make time, not excuses.”

…

I was patiently waiting for the right time to speak up but no more.

There’s no friend in someone whose ego depends on digging open your bruises.

There’s no friend in someone who doesn’t hear when you refuse,

There’s no friend in someone who only abuses

When the time is right, when it’s perfectly fitting…

For months now I’ve been dreaming about quitting,

And I promised I won’t take up dreams without fully committing

So here we go.

-JW

Spineless

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Something in my glass tastes like misery and I wonder –

Maybe the green colored glasses have gotten under my skin.

All the lights are emerald, and maybe I’m the one you wanted?

Maybe I’m the missing safety pin?

***

Promises are cheap, betrayal is priceless –

Honey, I’ll never sell the stab wounds in my back.

(Ironic, of course, they came from someone who’s spineless.)

But my love for you was low-cost so I burned the almanac.

-JW

The Circle Game

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Oh, be careful reflecting your self-worth on me.

One second you’re editing me, the next you’re neck-deep, drowning in hate for yourself,

You no longer have the sense or the means to not be self-destructive,

and visibly

There’s something that needs to be reattached to your ego, but you’re sitting on your ice shelf.

Cold. Eager to watch me cramping in frozen waters.

I won’t though. You’re riding the high horse,

Sipping on insecurities which only makes it sadder,

Pretending I had it bad, but you’ve got it worse.

Be careful reflecting your self-worth on me.

I don’t appear in mirrored reflections of superficial surfaces,

and visibly

You’re upset I didn’t wait for you while the selfishness passes.

But I don’t write my poems for you. I write them for the masses.

-JW

Candy

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…Yet it becomes so apparent – when you meet the ones you’re so supposed to be with,

the ones you were looking for all along,

the ones you sought since the day you first felt cold…

And they will not think it over.

They will sit still through the storms.

But isn’t it funny…

The evident is always a little hidden in the truth.

During the best of times so many will put up a fight trying to convince you – they’re the ones you’ve lost.

Yet – you’ve known for too long to chase these fake tales of greedy love.

Because the ones you’re seeking don’t leave when it’s messy. They know you’re messy.

Once you find them

it is always just so apparent.

…

-JW

Fine

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Picking up the pieces after I exploded with rage wasn’t the hardest part.

It was more difficult to promise I’ll love you till death do us part.

I wouldn’t promise my endless, undying devotion to anyone, rest assured,

But you bent my neck so sharply I couldn’t breathe, and I felt cured.

Sewing my severed pieces together from scratch wasn’t annoying.

Boys will be boys; and it happened to be me, entering in the midst of them toying.

I wouldn’t forgive the scars on my pale, cold skin, yet I would forgive you –

It just seems better when he’s the one who harms, and also the one you screw.

Stitching my freshly spilled brain together from the bathroom walls is fine.

How come he was so patient? I had one drink too many. Or maybe nine?

I wouldn’t be alive today if he didn’t give me that steady push with a fist.

As soon as I saw red in my hair I knew I’ve made it into the naughty list.

It’s fine. Really, it’s fine. I’ll take the risk.

-JW

619

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Mad at my friends, in love with the freedom.

Fallen deep into the eyes of a beautiful weirdo.

But maybe we’re strangers now? Maybe it’s equal?

The lust, the loathing… And now we’re at zero?

We dance two steps back, one inch forward.

My family calls but I can’t come over.

Too busy figuring out the difference between love and disorder.

Truth rains in drops but it feels like a shower.

-JW

Polygraph

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Stay. The polygraph is not painting the picture right.

I want to be in your arms. I’m not afraid of the height.

Crashing towards the asphalt, falling.

Hoping to see you down there. It’s appalling.

The fear is tearing a hole in my being but it’s deceiving.

I can’t leave you alone this evening.

Do you see through me that clearly? Is it a vision?

I’ve taken a feeling and made it into a prison.

The aluminum breathes on my limp body when I’m frightened.

Yet – whenever you call, this cage feels a million pounds lighter.

Stay. The charts are inaccurate. My chained heart made them.

Now it’s free to go, and I’m not asking for it to pay rent.

-JW