And one day I won’t be this bitter,
My tongue won’t need a babysitter.
And one day I’ll learn to take a “no” –
Perhaps tomorrow,
Not today though.
One year the revenge will even out,
My hands won’t shake, lips won’t pout.
Maybe even this week I’ll be fine –
But not right now
While I’m still vile.
I promise – one morning it’ll stop.
There won’t be any tears to mop.
And one morning I’ll just let it go –
The time will finally
Take it slow.
-JW
Pretty please, don’t ever lower you shiny shields.
All your yesterdays will burn your pride in the fields,
They’ll poke your intestines open and cheer,
Even colour their cheeks with bloody smears.
Don’t fall for whatever they’re selling today.
You always have a friend in your own dismay.
For you it’s not really that much of a momentum –
They’re using your story only as an addendum.
Dearest, listen, trust those who constantly crave
And abuse the permissions that their own god gave.
Turn a cold shoulder to those seeking warmth,
Call it “unintended distance” instead of direct harm.
-JW
You should regret the day you passed me in the misty noon,
Smelling of innocence, humming calmingly yet out of tune.
The bright naivety evaporated so swiftly and too soon –
Your fist trembled the table, ending our latest honeymoon.
You shouldn’t forget the way you pressed me like a mold
Onto your perfectly orderly headlines, colored in bold.
Your vivid fury lit hellish rage in this body, usually cold,
And you smashed the mirror along with my marigolds.
You must forever carry the weight of my gut-wrenching cries,
The kind that’s only heard when someone sinless dies.
Your explosive temper turned my little funerals into white lies,
And with each piece of me disintegrating
You cut me to size.
-JW
You wear him around your neck like an ancient amulet,
Such a pretty Judas dressed in the costume of a Capulet.
Your left eye twitches when he mentions the name of another
So you shed one more snake skin and make him your lover.
You tighten the chains, you ensure he’s always close,
And you do the laundry only to smell all his clothes –
Just to obsess over a jacket with a hint of my perfume
So you can christen it with fire while your ego fumes.
You crack the emergency glass a bit more each time,
Smearing blood on his collar, thinking it’s a lipstick of mine.
I’m patient – but the moment your grip becomes a noose,
The sensation of your heartbeats fading will erase our truce.
-JW
I squeeze my own purple knees until they’re completely dry,
Pull my hair out in clumps, shout but don’t apologize.
Some beg me to be honest, some overlook the sharpened edges
So they don’t have to talk me down from new ledges.
The tired ones point at me wearily but never in rightful anger.
We all have the fear of being greatly mishandled.
Perhaps if I just stop cutting my brain open for another display,
The voices will pack up and call it a day.
Perhaps if I just cut off my hair, I’ll find the strength to grow up
To stop begging hundreds of strangers, “Please show up.”
I tie and tangle these thoughts, I hide them under the sink.
Revisit only when there’s a fresh scar, salmon pink.
But I don’t let go of my own purple knees until I’m so dry
That a scream sounds like the perfect lullaby.
-JW
It’s just another evening of me burying you in bejewelled falsities,
Dragging you down the rockiest paths, dusting you with faux niceties.
My moods swing and dance violently in circles, just like the Saturn rings,
But you’re patiently collecting my poisonous words even if it stings.
Will you stay when I’m needy, will you stay when I forget myself?
I’ve asked my reflection and she’s undecided, begging me to get help.
Yet you keep holding onto the sails when the winds hit our discounted ship,
When the glass flies all over the room, when the rim cuts your lip.
If my mind’s a cave, it’s the darkest one you’ll ever see in real life.
The rocks pierce your skin, you’ve been used to the impact for some time.
You carry me to the bed each evening despite my brain growling loud –
And it’s just another night of my anxieties losing more ground.
-JW
Scratches on my door, figures by my bed,
White faces in the windowpane.
I know something horrid is approaching.
The stars blink wily as ghouls refrain.
Cuts appear all over my tired body,
They ooze, they burn like wildfire.
But I can’t leave this feeling alone
With its spooks, too dark and dire.
Even paper bruises my skin these days,
I smear the blood all over.
The void behind my forehead widens
Engulfing the room, bursting the controller.
Yet I stay with the rising discomfort,
The curtain is ready for the last show.
The pure panic in my gaze spirals
As the mirror yells torturously:
“Virago!”
-JW
The time is dissolving slowly, melting like sugar in lukewarm water,
But the river flowing out of you is spoiled,
It’s saltier than the tears of your father.
The seconds dribble and form symmetrical frost flowers in the meadows –
A handful of daffodils with conspicuous crowns
And a single French rose.
You don’t acknowledge, you’re busy playing with the minutes falling,
They’re drenching you like rain in a hot summer,
You kneel to them as if they’re your calling.
The thirsty always forget to bring more drinking water to the deserts,
They rely on the streams appearing hourly as mirages,
They sweat and bleed through their T-shirts.
So it’s never said out loud that the art of time is rotten to the very core –
The clocks are rigged for the lucky ones,
They run twice as fast for the poor.
With faux unawareness we live on stolen time, on borrowed yesterdays
Which we pile up so overly confident
Until broken clocks set them ablaze.
The time is materializing fast, burning hotter than the Molotov cocktails.
But the fumes coming out of you are gelid,
Colder than a breeze in an icebreaker’s sails.
-JW
The mauve satin sky has fallen upon my borough
Giving all faces the anonymity of a John Doe.
We’re all in veils, we’re balancing on the rim.
We all move in vain, it’s muted, dull and dim.
The light we consume can be bought in store
And houses in my street have the same iron door.
Each night it seems there’s a stranger in my bed.
The illusion of normalcy is messing with my head.
I could swear – the sun’s made from diodes too.
Some keep chanting, “the key to LED is blue.”
Although it seems likely what’s inside remains real
They did replace my roses with stainless steel.
So I try to look closely at jasmines and maples –
The edges are fastened with invisible staples.
Translucent wires keep forcing me to smile
While my throat’s burning with curses and bile.
My pillow’s filled with pages of charred books,
There’s only normalcy, normalcy
Wherever I look.
-JW
My feet are carrying me ahead – through the dense forest, down the hill.
Trees squeezing together tightly to keep me from moving, to keep me still.
I know the night is almost over but the branches refuse to let in the sun –
As long as they convince me that the darkness endures, I believe I am the only one.
There is a gleam in the distance, it spins like a disco ball, it blurs my vision.
My boots sink into the moss as I trip over the shrubs trying to escape this gimmick.
But there is nowhere to go, only this evergreen vault crushing my ribs.
I am crawling and panting, the thought of stopping seems sweeter than figs.
No, there must be a path that leads to the other side, there must be some hope.
The woods chuckle at my silliness as a breeze pushes me on a downward slope.
My nails are bloody, fingers so raw they burn, knuckles whiter than snow.
The tentacles of another violent forest creature drag me towards the neon glow.
I stab with all my anger, I bite and snarl until it drops me in the grass.
“Keep your head down,” I repeat to myself, managing to ignore the hourglass.
With the force of a hurricane I grab my hunting knife and hurry away,
Through leaves, cones and pine needles my legs fight the desire to stay.
Even through my frantic breathing I hear the black abyss collapsing behind me.
I stumble closer to the real light, it is darting towards me, lukewarm and shiny.
The forests fail to claim my body yet another time, but they will return.
One day I might gather the courage to let all the twigs and roots burn –
But not today. If I only sprint faster,
I can take a step closer to the point of no return.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 