Pure cherry kisses lost between the winds.
We hide the red in our cheeks
And blood on our chins.
But the sun won’t raise again if we stay,
If we silently wait for our shins
To get stuck in the clay.
So your eyes well up with muddy waters,
My chest is full of sharp pins
As I’m cursing the fathers.
And then we’re torn apart by the sinking sand.
Still – we know that it’s better
Than laying down roots in this land.
-JW
The silver in your hair fades with the dawn like ghoulish memories.
I wanted you to save the world but now wars are my legacy –
And you never mentioned how you love parting the seven seas
Only when the crowds are cheering, only when they’re here to see.
I gave all my days away to labor for your bleached love,
You cheered for my naivety because it fit you like a glove.
Now our bedroom walls are crusty with the guts you spilled for me
And I’m left with broken wings still screaming “you would kill for me”.
But it’s almost dawn so your tricks grow translucent yet again.
I thought you’d be my enemy but now they brand you as my friend.
So pack your things and walk the merry way you took to chase me down.
The silver in your hair was just another crooked paper crown.
-JW
And the birds drop dead on the ground before my very eyes.
It’s nothing but a sight of someone sacred getting patronized.
Isn’t it nice to just watch yourself outlive them once more?
Yet – I’m scared I can’t carry on without my wings getting sore.
So the winds keep rushing us towards an eternity tonight.
The air is hushing us but we’re drifting like loose kites.
And I know the time and place to drop is nearing way too fast.
It’s nothing but a fleeting memory of world not meant to last.
-JW
I hide away in the buzz between your lips,
Touching your fingertips,
Amending all the rips.
You hold my hair back while I burn out bright
But only during the night
While lost in this blight.
The oxygen in my veins sings for you, too,
Perhaps I’m your Waterloo,
Yet – I feel your blues.
I hurt for every bullet you take in self-defense.
One day we’ll make amends,
And meet where the sadness ends.
-JW
Sometimes I feel like screaming is not enough,
Their backs turned against us,
Their words vile and rough.
And my heart breaks, it breaks time and again
About their ignorance
Drowned in stale champagne.
I could recollect all the stories one more time
If it meant anything more
Than the sound of chimes.
But the wind is passing through the town today
And I must follow the road
To chase what I crave.
To those staying back, watching me pack up –
Remember my face
When the times got rough.
I burned my feet for them and never gave in.
So call my absence a save,
Don’t call it a sin.
Because no one’s gonna pull me out of the fire,
I have to do it on my own,
Have to walk the spire.
Even if you think it’s not what you’d desire,
The faith will tie us together again
Just like haywire.
-JW
Wish I could cut you off like my own tangled hair,
Wash you out of my blood with one bright flare.
But even the color yellow reminds me of you
As I search the streets for someone new.
My lucky star has long given up on my heart.
You could burst it open with one well-aimed dart.
And I still think your touch was that much different –
Yet all it did was make me weaker and sicker.
I’m not a sticker that would hold as you please,
You owe it to me – let my pride die in peace.
But your head has long branded me as worthless
So I pray to the gods
That I never worshiped.
-JW
The walls within this sickly concrete sea monster always look too dull,
The faces are greyer than October sky, barely sticking to their skulls.
I bury all clues and shotguns where I know I’d never step my foot again
And blend in with the walls, breathing in fumes and fresh propane.
The lines are long but I’m used to waiting for an uneventful death.
Each humanoid figure around is the same – everything but a real threat.
We submissively march to the music and lower our eyes when it stops.
Some ashy buildings appear on the horizon just as my stomach drops.
I can sense the electric nervousness strings overtaking the numb crowd.
This is the moment we could run for cover – only if we were allowed.
Instead we brace for impact as cement fills the streets, we are tongue tied.
We’ve been taught since a very young age:
When the city calls, you must always be ready to die.
-JW
The rosewood door to your dream house still haunts me while I sleep.
I wanted to walk the highroad but you dragged me into the deep.
Withheld secrets spilled on the floor, sour air between our bodies
As you ask me to close the door from the other side
And find some better hobbies.
The keys to my old apartment hide in your closet with all the “sorries”.
I spend my weekends cutting little fictions out of our happiest stories.
There’s no way we got that far up the mountain just to die on a hill,
No way a pile of ash destroyed the paper palaces
The strongest fires couldn’t kill.
Now whenever I drive by your house, it doesn’t remind me of home.
You can change the paintings and curtains, but you cannot rebuild Rome.
Every new morning comes with another ounce of sharpened lucidity,
And I hope it cuts my pride open just enough
To defy your gravity.
-JW
She shaves her head and clips off her wings,
Readies her limbs, sells all ruby rings.
The embroidered clothes fall into flames.
“I won’t be needing gowns for dames.”
There’s a spot between the nearby roofs
Where her heavy head goes hunting spooks.
But tonight the chest fills up with dread,
The body seems to be glued to the bed
And iron chains are holding down her name
So it can’t be lifted and put in a frame.
“No change is easy, let the fire pass through.”
She sinks into the pillows,
Lets her spirit throw a coup.
-JW
Spent another day in my own basement letting the rain dull my thoughts,
Arranging a courtroom in my unfair mind, bowing to rusty metal gods.
I hear the jury sitting down upstairs, I hear the judge using his new gavel.
My brain’s ushered away to be used as evidence in this case yet to unravel.
The court proceedings fill me with dread, they’re agonizingly numbing.
Yet – my spite’s done with beatings so I choose to abuse thy cunning.
I watch my mouth spew sharp arguments, all based on years of correcting me.
They dig deep even though I promised to never call myself an enemy.
My tongue splatters acidic liquids over the already damaged wallpaper
And the windows shatter in deadly pieces, ready to let me meet my makers.
The body’s giving in to the pressure so I really start wondering – how come?
Why do I keep fixing the floors and ceilings if I still call this palace a slum?
But you know the answer, and so do I.
The judge catches me in a terrible lie
I’m bound to another day down here,
Self-imprisoned, ready to disappear.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 