Are you shouting my excuses from the rooftops?
Are you hoping that I’m finally free?
I chase my past, and this race never stops.
You’re the last face I see before I go to sleep.
Do you imagine my eyes like they used to be?
Are they wiser and even more hypnotic?
My fingers disturb the surface of jealousy,
And we mix under the moon like gin and tonic.
-Jackie
Attention follows me around the street corner,
And I hear its dirty claws coming for my neck.
I want them to perceive me as the final loner,
And I want them to see me as nothing but a threat.
Sharp gazes dig into my flesh like some razors.
They cut off my clothes and slash open my throat.
The path ahead flows in black and blue phases,
But all that I need is to keep myself afloat.
Some cutting words slice off strands of my hair.
If I flinch even a little, the last sword will fall.
My screams get muffled in the hot and heavy air.
I would seek help, but I have nobody to call.
-Jackie
Every breath that leaves my lips carries this lust,
This greater sense of purpose,
This gold-covered rust.
I am careful not to waste it on second chances.
My walls are built high –
No passion, no romances.
Every step that I take shakes out the darkness.
My vision turns blurry,
And the night sky turns starless.
The curved road ahead is chanting my old name.
I let it have its laughs,
Let it play its wicked games.
Every breath that leaves my lips floats like a cloud.
One more step to heaven,
One more scream from the crowd.
-Jackie
They monitor my photos for a whisper of a rumor,
Then go and spill my worst stories over some tea.
The crowds laugh it off, but I do not see the humor,
And their soulless screens will not get my sympathy.
My silence is offensive, so they tell me to scream.
My rage is a currency they exchange on weekends.
Their judgements come at me in one whirling beam,
And I know they desire for me to start bleeding.
Do they know I rip out my hair as I lay awake?
Their small-town politics are making my skin peel.
They already know it all, what else is there to take?
Tear apart my existence, it is free for you to steal.
-Jackie
I tend to forget how I gleam from the distance
And how my laugh rings like the sound of a sin.
They stare and observe, taming their sixth sense,
And I can feel as their patience wears thin.
I tend to draw lines where the others once walked,
Recklessly effacing their ghosts from my future.
They want me to love them, they want us to talk.
They want to turn me into a stone sculpture.
I tend to leave first whenever they cut me,
But sometimes the rope is already on my wrists.
The streets whimper quietly, calling me sultry,
And I am not sure how long I will persist.
-Jackie
My wounds will heal with the first summer mist,
And the friends I left behind will call me a narcissist.
The damaged bridges will pull themselves together.
My reflection and I, we are birds of a feather.
The cracks in my memory will cease to be a story,
Only little interruptions, gaps in my inventory.
Sooner or later, I will find my stolen peace,
And the blade that I carry will kill this dark disease.
But today is not the day, I must carry the cross.
I must keep my eyes down while the others get lost.
My wounds will close under the last autumn rain.
New friends will treat me like I do not carry pain.
-Jackie
My mind is losing itself to the years and the winds.
Too many words wasted on irrelevant sins.
I cross my heart and pray that this too shall pass,
But the surface of the lake still reflects my past.
My head is trying to shake the pins and the needles.
The effort is great, but the results are feeble.
When I wake up tomorrow, my muse will be dead,
And I will pay twice for every tear I have shed.
-Jackie
There is time to mourn, and there is time to dance,
And I shoot between these times as I clap my hands.
I used to smother who I was, but then I forgot.
My brain is a flesh carousel starting to rot.
There is time to laugh, and there is time to fall apart,
And if you get confused, you go back to the start.
I used to live thinking that I had nothing to fear.
The heaven knows I wasted my brightest years.
-Jackie
These raw memories float to the surface of my brain,
And their bittersweetness flickers with a blue light.
Thundering voices tell me to paint it all sweeter,
Yet there is more promise in a dying night.
My heart aches for the ones who only have the dark,
But screams for the ones who sugarcoat the surface.
The scars I carry come with stories I treasure.
The purity of true joy is only making me nervous.
Still, they call me bitter, and I know they mean it.
They derive true pleasure from cursing me out.
These raw memories sink in my skull like an anchor,
And their edges kill everyone who is in doubt.
-Jackie
Light breeze shuffles around the pages on my desk.
I hold onto these walls, hoping for a moment of rest.
Slight ease pours into me from the dripping ceiling,
And I know I am alone, but I cannot shake the feeling.
The wooden floor twists in agony as I start to speak.
“Destiny is for the winners, free will – for the weak.”
Smooth and elegant shards slide on my pale skin.
No matter where I go, my past will prick me like a pin.
Its menacing gaze will follow me to the riverbed,
As I sink deeper, it will paint the blue waters red.
I must put the feeling on a page, but the pen is heavy.
I would burn down the house, but it does not let me.
Light breeze shuffles around the thoughts in my skull.
Life runs at me in bright flashes, but they taste dull.
Heavy breaths pour out of my throat and my heart.
The weight of my past collapses like a house of cards.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 