Category: Candy’s diaries

Victimless Crime

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I don’t know about your policies or your disclosure agreements.

I didn’t read the papers until I sealed the deal

And caught the fleeting feelings.

You don’t want to hear my arguments, don’t care about excuses.

You didn’t put the pen in my hand so technically

These are self-inflicted bruises.

They don’t notice what’s happening, they claim inculpability.

They didn’t write the contract so perhaps

I should look at my own morality.

So we carry on –

The people don’t mind but they never promise to wish us well,

Faking their smiles and feeding the ego,

Even when keeping one ear to the shell.

We hold each other whilst burning the policies and agreements.

“Burn the pages,” they said.

“Burn the paper planes, not the feelings.”

-JW

Hexes

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Photo by Aleksandr Burzinskij from Pexels

What are you thinking, why are you turning into someone I can rely on?

And why are you coming closer when I still have the past on replay

Without a shoulder to cry on?

Not sure how it started but I’m re-reading yesterdays’ words all morning.

This one time you called me enchanting and I wondered

Whether it meant that you’re falling.

Am I growing into a person I once despised because I’m out of options?

Will I push you away, far behind the swinging plywood walls,

Or will I pretend to be less noxious?

So what do you have in store for me, why should I follow?

Before the night fades into mush,

You’re taking my mind down a crisp, cold hollow.

And I don’t know the way back, I don’t see an easy exit.

The way you take me down the path seems steady.

I wish for the strength not to hex it.

-JW

Scheduled

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Photo by Swapnil Chakraborty from Pexels

Two hours forward, eighteen back.

I dance around the schedule,

It’s compromise I lack.

Sixty more clicks on the keyboard.

I’m never done with counting

And putting down a petty sword.

When the dawn arrives, I fidget,

I spin around in my seat.

My moral code’s missing a digit.

And the coffee yawns back at me

When I greet it the next morning,

Hoping to unlock misery’s mystery.

-JW

Grace is off the table.

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Photo by Bennie Lukas Bester from Pexels

I’m taking off my nice smiles and exchanging them for a better price,

Selling them for a hard bargain, melting them into tools I wear with pride.

Thighs scared, elbows bruised, cheeks still bloody but I’m not done.

I’m open to taking another beating, your fists are weightless,

My ego weighs tons.

I’m channelling the boys, increasing the tempo, the values, the voice,

Cooking up the perfect scene, then burying their heads in the voids.

And I don’t take their protests for granted, I fill them with poise.

The moment their act becomes nasty, I turn the volume up

To cut open their toys.

-JW

Insomniac

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I count to ten before letting the medusa hair out of the hat,

Before turning my back, before turning this white rabbit

Into a sickly rat.

I check my own pulse and clear my throat before biting,

Before swallowing the ink and flirting with the end.

Dusk makes this scene exciting.

I imagine a stadium of people before continuing this dance,

Before jumping in front of a fast moving thought and combusting

Into bones and fangs.

I bow before the cheering crowds start pointing sticks,

Before the insomnia once again settles in, drowns me out,

Tells me it’s something that I can’t fix.

-JW

Eight Minutes To Fall Asleep

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The wheels are in motion, I move to the side.

Sounds startle my mind but I still let it slide.

Messages, greetings and formal promotions.

I move to the side, but the wheels are in motion.

An ode to terror, a hymn to my insomniac brain.

I’ll suffer for closure, not gonna let it die in vain.

Booklets, sliding doors and seven errors.

The hymn to my insomnia, the ode to my terror.

Eight minutes to fall asleep, two seconds to die.

Once you pull the ring off, even the heavies will fly.

So I hold myself close, this moment is mine to keep.

Two seconds to die.

Eight minutes to fall asleep.

-JW

Emptiness 123

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The iron gates I’ve seen for years turn rose gold.

Dusty streets burn in vivid neon, brutal and bold.

My escape attempts seem more like cries for assistance

Because when I look back, no one tried to give me distance.

The waters surrounding the scene look more frightening.

Calming the world outside is like catching lightning.

And maybe I’ll be able to live with my own reflection

Once the old kings start dying in rapid succession?

With the one I wanted by my side, I’ll take the gamble.

Maybe it’s this city making me dull, making me shamble.

But maybe I’m deciding to live with my pain on display?

I bid my soul to the devil to relieve me of the foul play.

-JW

Don’t Close Your Eyes

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You’re there all of a sudden and I freeze –

Is this another daydream of mine?

Are you too real to shake the disease?

Blue shirt and vaporized sweat.

I know I can’t close my eyes

Because each promise is also a threat.

I’d rather break watching you leave

Than fall apart days later

Melting my kneeling heart into steel.

Satin skin next to my cold feet

I can’t make myself look away

So I watch you go, accepting defeat.

Burgundy boots, red broken dreams.

Take it for what it is, take it.

The bigger the wound, the faster it heals.

And you’re gone with the first autumn winds.

I can’t remember if any of it happened

But I can tell it was real.

My chest still bleeds red and it tints.

-JW

The Dream

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Once again we’re dancing towards the shore,

Hoping there’s a bigger love,

Hoping there’s something more.

You know – I’m ready to let go of the control.

Eyes open, fingers at ease –

My soul’s out on a parole.

Don’t go. Inhale the thunders. Exhale the storm.

The coast plays with our visions,

The silence rings an alarm.

And we keep dancing towards the shore,

Knowing there’s a bigger love,

Knowing – there’s always a little more.

-JW

Lookout

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Running down empty lanes and drives of the city I once knew,

Assuming I can find you again in this plastic, dusty zoo.

Looking around street corners and under each empty bin.

The lust is my greatest enemy but right now it tastes as good as sin.

No self-esteem left once I empty the last of my pride in these streets

And I don’t want to trade my soul away for another misdeed.

I keep my eyes open when I cry

To make sure your face doesn’t slip by.

I’m releasing the numbness just for you.

I wish you could dare to need me too.

-JW