The Temptation

Photo by Jonas Von Werne from Pexels

The forbidden fruit sharpens its crooked teeth

And scrunches up its face as it looks at me.

I feel the saliva drowning my tongue,

I sense the hot air filling up my lungs…

But I must look away, even if I perish,

Must build myself a brand-new parish.

The believers will find it by early dawn

And set ablaze the freshly mowed lawn.

They will call me an unimaginable traitor,

Then pray and thank the old gods later.

But the forbidden fruit leaks pure honey,

It stares at me like I owe it money.

No, I cannot fall for this temptation,

Cannot grant those thoughts an invitation.

Yet, my heart feels heavier every minute,

It begs me to just end it, just kill it.

I know I can do it, but not today.

I bite the fruit like the holiest prey.

-Jackie

The Craving

Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

I look at you and it feels like I am watching a silver screen,

Almost like a smooth cutout from a magazine,

Just a perfectly shot scene.

I lower my lashes,

I want to make you my lover,

But we both know the price of these affairs,

And how they cannot be hidden between the covers.

So, I guess we must fight fair.

My god, the way you laugh has a hold on me,

I struggle to breathe

Because it feels much better than flying in a dream.

And I wander the streets, trying to change my mind,

The weather is unkind, but I let it scold me,

I let it erase all the secrets that you told me.

But the craving, it does not really go away.

The more I kill it, the more it makes me its prey,

And I pray,

I beg to those phony gods to land me a spine,

To give me the strength to never cross the line.

Yet, you feel like you are mine,

And I cannot hide the truth –

I need you, and I have always needed you,

You are my home, you are my youth.

-Jackie

The Chase

Photo by Michael Giugliano from Pexels

My fingers get weak from constantly reaching for the holy grail.

It has been too long, and my skin has grown bumpy and pale,

And my nails are peeling off whenever the north winds hit me.

I once promised to chase the green light until I die,

But now I am ready to leave this city.

The ones who care simply tell me to pack up and run away,

They refuse to see me chasing new highs every other day.

The height is starting to scare me too, I cannot even lie,

But the pulsating light calms me every evening,

Begging me to give it another try.

My eyes are slowly losing their perspective on the past.

This voice in my head says that only the future will last.

Sometimes I believe it, but sometimes I squeeze my skull

Until all the grand thoughts turn into mush,

Until all the sharp edges become dull.

The ones who know me well tell me to look in the mirror,

They beg me to stop, they command me to see it clearer.

But the death wish I carry in my backpack excites me,

It wraps around my torso like a poisonous snake,

Then chokes me out in my sleep.

-Jackie

A Note From You Devil

Photo by imustbedead from Pexels

I live in a tale where leaves fall without the autumn air touching them,

I live in a tale where the creatures living under your bed are your best friends.

Great loneliness sneaks up on me every morning, but I hold onto my ropes

And choke out that feeling whenever the silence makes me lose all hope.

I live right by the lake that hides all the corpses of grand unrequited loves,

I live in an endless fog, and the blurriness always fits me like a glove.

Strangers wander in my house once a month, but I hold onto my matches,

And I give them free candles and gasoline until the fire catches.

I live under every crooked surface, I live between some dying trees,

I live in wonder, walking the roads where I once stood on my knees.

There are waves beating shorelines nearby, there are rivers changing flow,

Yet, I always get lost in the sound and run out of smooth stones to throw.

I live on the edge of a narrative that is more fragile than rice paper,

I live between unread lines and unnoticed glances shared by neighbors.

Sometimes I even live on the tip of your tongue as you grit your teeth,

And I dance on your shoulder with my horns on display,

Ready to take you underneath.

-Jackie

Blood And Blasphemy

Photo by Erik Mclean from Pexels

When my blood finally mixes with the last bits of blasphemy in your voice,

The faux gods will sing to our glory and the heavens will rejoice.

When your grip on my throat finally eases and my final string snaps,

They will be picking up pieces, gluing together shreds and scraps.

When the wind gets blown out of my lungs as you finally cut me free,

They will chase us through the darkest roads, trying to kill the fantasy.

And when my tongue finally grows back its blades and cuts open your neck,

They will cheer for me in pure fear until all that is left behind is a wreck.

When my skeleton will finally collapse on itself like some ancient ruins,

They will whisper wicked words beneath their breaths about spiteful humans.

But when the worms finally eat my rotting flesh, I will sigh in disbelief,

Cursing your name and their false wisdoms on blood and blasphemy.

-Jackie

Underneath

Photo by Rene Asmussen from Pexels

There are eyeballs in my coffee,

And they wink whenever I smile.

Those eyes, they tell me they love me,

Then bleed out on my kitchen tiles.

There are tongues on the city pavement,

But I guess you have never noticed.

Be careful making your statements

Because they do not lose their focus.

There are ribcages between us,

And I am working to unlock mine.

Foolish books tell me words about Venus,

But I know that the key is time.

There are shards in the air you breathe,

So be cautious when you speak.

They will hurt your gums and your teeth,

Will rip your skin and slide underneath.

-Jackie

Late Night Taxis

Photo by SevenStorm JUHASZIMRUS from Pexels

I’ve taken at least a dozen taxes home last week,

And, god, I’ve cried in every single one,

I’ve cried until I couldn’t breathe.

The drivers never notice my running mascara,

They just take me through the frozen city

As my mouth feels drier than The Sahara.

But the city stares at me, begging me to stop,

I hear it moving around me awkwardly,

Growing more annoyed with every teardrop.

I wish I could say things like “this is the last time”

Or “this is the last son I take”,

Yet, the hell is wide open for my crimes.

So, I carry on, I’ve signed the contract already.

Each night I walk the darkest streets,

Looking for someone rude or unsteady.

I breathe in the heavy winter air as I approach,

And the blade in my pocket smirks.

It’s my partner, it’s my coach.

Once I’m done, the old buildings judge me,

But as long as I don’t leave any witnesses,

Their sorrows don’t cost me money.

So, I’ll just take another taxi home tomorrow,

And the city will have to deal with the fact

That my prey is stolen, not borrowed.

-Jackie

The Chosen

Photo by Wallace Chuck from Pexels

The lump in my throat feels like an anchor now

With its heavy edges drowning me in your waters.

Two hours ago, you told me you were proud,

But we are once again back at cursing my father.

I did not mean to say that you two are alike,

I did not even mean to utter a syllable.

Now you are cussing at the cutlery, picking a fight,

Calling me cold and calling me cynical.

You brought me chamomile tea to make it better,

And we drank in silence as you calmed down.

It was way too hot and a little too bitter,

But you have already robbed me of my ivory crown –

So, I drank as I tried to make my heart slow a bit,

Wondering about why the house was so damn quiet.

I looked at you, but you just told me to sit.

“Aren’t you done with planning your riots?”

The room started spinning as my throat ached,

And I begged for water as you washed the cups.

So serene and steady, you knew the stakes.

You ensured that I suffer, then called the cops.

The lump in my throat feels like an anchor again

With its heavy edges drowning me in your poison.

I hope it gets cured by the graveyard rain,

And I hope I was the last to ever be chosen.

-Jackie

All Her Little Horrors

Photo by Faruk Tokluoğlu from Pexels

All her little horrors will eat her soul alive,

All her little fantasies will make her a terrible bride.

Still, she will try to convince them that her hurt is real,

But they will throw her away like a banana peel.

All her little stories will dry out her charms,

All her little narratives will only bring fear and harm.

Yet, she will never listen to their friendly warnings,

She will hiss at every stranger who ever calls her “darling”.

All her little rumors will set her fate on fire,

All her little truths will grow into fake guns for hire.

But she will bleed red until they drain her out,

And only once she passes, they will care about the shouts.

-Jackie

My Final Sacrifice

Photo by Sergey Zherehov from Pexels

Carry me in your arms until you cannot go any further,

Put me down on your altar like a gift to the gods.

Let them consume me in the name of their holiest father,

And let them use my spine as a lightning rod.

Watch me being sliced into thin pieces and whispers,

Cover your eyes when it gets way too gory.

When they turn my dull eyes into buttons that glisten,

Please let them do it all and never feel sorry.

Once they are done wasting my body and my purpose,

Carry every part they leave behind to the forest.

Put me down beside the fire, in the middle of the circle,

And hum your favorite song, hum the chorus.

Do not look up as I crawl out of the dust.

Each piece they robbed me of will only add to my power.

Let them know I persevered their greed and their lust,

Let them know they will die at the next witching hour.

-Jackie