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Detained

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The only way that you’re pretty

Is that you’re pretty mean.

Hate to like you so much, baby,

But I love your hips, so lean.

The only way you’re chill

Is when your jokes are cold.

Can’t stop laughing at my own expense,

Can’t believe you’re still this bold.

The only way you’re sweet

Is when you sugarcoat your lies.

I’m not surprised, but you’re so neat.

Didn’t you know –

Don’t get high on your own supplies?

The only way that you’re outstanding

Is how naïve you can remain.

Hate to love you’re fits and swearing

But by your side I’ll be detained.

-JW

Bloodline

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Have bled through the walls of this haunted house I’ve built for myself

While others called me a quitter I stitched it, bookshelf by bookshelf.

It’s a nasty process, crawling through corpses to find yourself –

At one point you stop worrying about the medals and only attack to repel.

Have cried rivers for all the wrong people and killed my darlings in the process,

But no one told me it’s wrong – they only asked me to hide and oppress.

So I learned from my sins. I built a fence around the house so I can care less.

Took me two years to figure out that you only gain deeds if you aggress.

Have spat into the eyes of gods when they asked me to die, this I don’t regret.

Sure, not that happy about living another day, but I hate losing a bet,

Especially the one my bloodline put on my head, framed my photo in vignette.

The fact that I made it out in one piece, in cold sweat,

Always seemed to make them upset.

-JW

I hate this poem…

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I’m gonna love you from a distance. I’m gonna want you from a far.

I keep telling myself lies – that I’m good when we’re apart.

Sitting here, drinking, and hoping that a car ran me over today, twice.

For looking into those deadly nightshade eyes of yours I have to pay the price.

Have loved you for a week again, will hate you for the months to come –

But clearly that’s alright. I’d chug a pint of poison if it tastes like bubble gum.

Never been the quiet type, observer or admirer. I fucking hate this poem too.

When and why did I go blind? Why do I wonder tirelessly, without a clue?

I haven’t lost a part of me in you, yet what scares me the most here

Is that I’ve found something new, and that’s simply not fair.

None of my friends dare to ask what I’m truly feeling because they know

Once the truth’s out I’ll chase you like Wall Street guys from 80-s chased some blow.

I’m scared of ruining everything for you, but is there anything left to spoil?

When you speak of anyone else, the temperature raises as my blood begins to boil.

I’ve gone too low, I’ll admit it. My skull seems to be damaged with a crowbar.

Yet… I’m gonna love you from a distance. I’m gonna want you from a far.

-JW

Little Lies

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They lied when they said that people need water to live.

I’ve been driving for 6 hours and this road has no give.

I’m tired of looking over my shoulder, chasing the sun,

When there’s nothing I need more than someone saying –

You don’t have to run.

They lied when they said that people need air to survive.

I’ve been suffocating for a decade, lacking a peace of mind.

Riding down the roads that are never-ending feels like ice skating

On the thinnest of surfaces – sometimes delightful, yet what I really miss

Is taking a breath that’s invigorating.

They lied when they said that people need love to be alive.

I’ve never once felt deader than whilst I was falling. Let me take five.

Hunting my dreadful past means more dire futures are in the making

But I’m immune to seeing paths less self-destructive as pain does the trick

Of keeping me from ever truly waking.

-JW

Pyromaniac In My Chest

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No one warned me before I jumped head first into the deep end

That dying inside for one chance to get free is a pretty high value to spend.

But I did it to escape, one way or another, from the bullies in my skull,

From the pyromaniac in my chest, from the pills that make me dull.

I flew off the roofs of reason and dropped faster than a rock towards the unknown.

Who knew that having it all meant being deprived of everything, except the throne?

Looking back I can now admit that being insensitive has its benefits.

Ice so cold in my eyes, there’s nothing reflecting, no hope, just blitz.

Violence comes easy when you don’t feel in debt of compassion anymore –

Baby, are you ready to quit or do you want to take a hit once more?

-JW

Written in Indigo

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You’re my ride or die, whether you leave or try. You’re my own.

I don’t really possess you but you can never leave when I groan.

Left a box of my belongings by the door the other day, without a note.

Put a rose on it the next day and a list of poems that you wrote

Thinking of how we’re making each other mad again, how I’m crazy

And you’re out of your mind. We only stopped fighting when we got lazy.

You’re the worst. You’re the devil. You’re everything I hate about this world,

Even a bit more, as you overexaggerate my words and make the truth look whirled.

I want to say “fine” when you’re leaving again but I can’t stop myself from saying –

Please stay. And you raise your voice again, I lose control. I bet the neighbors are praying.

***

I’m so glad this story only exists in my head.

I could’ve kissed you back then but I didn’t, I fled.

I knew if I touched your lips to cause a mayhem,

I would never be capable to function without them.

You’re the reason I’m dancing in the streets in my nightgown, drawing in blood

Messages to all the lovers that said I’m no good.

I’ve never felt like I’m no good with you, even when I’m sincere.

But I’ve also never seen a pair of eyes that I would kill to keep. Oh, dear.

I can’t promise I won’t kiss you tomorrow.

We’ll see if I dare or drown in my sorrow.

Hope it’s both. Our love story will be written in indigo.

Red. Yellow. Skin color. Then again – vertigo

From your fist. Where to go?

-JW

Honey Bunnies

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I think of a line or two to write down in my notes all the time, but frankly

It’s never something I want to put down in writing – and you should thank me.

The burning sensation inside is a bit too raw to make poetic or pretty.

You can’t polish a truth into rhymes that sound deep yet witty.

I’ve never worn my heart on my sleeve so they’re right to say I’m heartless –

The girl who changed the game instead of playing cards is just another animal for them to harness.

To you, my friend, this situation might seem harmless –

Until you look inside and see how they’ve made their galleries empty. Artless.

Its people they’ve put on the walls, they’re saying our trauma is entertaining.

Our ideas are called cheap while they never disclose what they’re spending

On drugs and crummy hostel rooms with their Honey Bunnies.

I used to be the last person to kick someone who’s down, now I’ll do it for the money.

Isn’t it funny

How times change and how little left to lose we have these days.

Insanity finds it ways

To take a bite out of everyone who plays.

-JW

Concierges of Darkness

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It’s true that Jackie once wrote:

“It was so clear that he was the only one for me.”

Or Lana imagined it. I don’t care as long as I agree

That the feeling is poignant, to the bone. It grips you.

The life you could’ve had without him passes by your very eyes,

So long, so far that no one recognizes that it’s you. It’s true.

The feeling traps pain and you doubt the sincerity of it building up,

Of it trying to escape your ribcage like a prison, then saying it’s a cover up.

My thoughts are his now but it also makes them more vivid.

It’s sometimes unbearable to think that one day we’ll become stiff

And rigid.

***

Since the time you introduced me to yourself, we were tied

By being the concierges of each other’s darkness for this ride.

Owning somebody’s piece of mind

Also makes you a participant in the crime

But what is the point of playing it safe and sound

If reality keeps hitting us harder with every round?

“It was so clear that he was the only one for me,” I keep repeating this line

As if you could hear it. I keep trying to survive. You’re the fence to my vine.

I must’ve really gotten my money’s worth when I cut you out

Of the picture I was once so happy to own and show around.

***

If he could only hear me out for one minute

On how I’ve never doubted his love or his repute…

Now it’s all gone in the winds and I can only remember –

I’ve never wanted to wake up since that September.

-JW

120 per minute

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Hope you’re good without me pulling your chest closer

Or making hair stand on your neck when I call you a poser.

It’s been a day since I’ve made you laugh so lightly.

I wish I could forget how I called you mine, nightly.

The thought makes me cold but what makes me shiver

Is how you sold me down the river

In less than a heartbeat.

My heartbeat. That’s 120 per minute and counting –

Should I chase you? That I’m still doubting.

After you had it in you to bleed me dry in a low place.

After for one brief second I didn’t give you the praise

You turned your back like I was never yours to play with.

What a fucking story! Or am I lacking the wit

To understand how it feels to betray someone who clenches your waist

During the best of mornings, worst of nights – until it all goes to waste.

I’ve been waiting for your mercy differently lately

But my arms are heavy and lips move sedately.

It’s hard to explain how much I need to hold you, despise my instincts

Yelling it’s more than you’ll ever need me – but in that instance

Is there anything left to lose for this selfish brain of mine?

I’m letting you destroy my concrete barriers like dynamite.

It’s just that kind of night.

-JW

A Maniac’s Love Letter

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How come – it’s another day in the fairytale land with so little joy?

You can’t buy the rights to my heart but you can always deploy,

You can always plan so that I don’t escape, yet I don’t really enjoy.

The glory might be the prize but his eyes, they don’t lie,

Chico, they’re my favorite decoy.

I’ve never asked for much when it comes to love, and I swear –

A little sense was all I wanted. Not another mask to wear.

My nerves are built of paper, they burn and they tear.

Not so sure about the others, but if it all breaks loose –

You’re the one I’m gonna spare.

The whites of your eyes look ugly when you roll them, blaring.

You launch them at me like bloodhounds. I think about disappearing

As my last act in this unrequited game. Then I recall us daring

To never leave a fib behind – and it would’ve worked if you weren’t

That passive about baring.

I’m angry. I followed your scent through the mud and got stuck

In this frozen forest with no way out. No matches. I’m out of luck.

But life goes on for you. And it won’t be you, selling tears for a buck,

Desperately waving the white flag and saving for flares to cope

With another day that will suck

In the fairytale land.

How could I dream so grand?

Now my mouth is full of sand

And I’m begging you to take me home

To the places I do understand.

-JW