Category: poetry

Note #316

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My anger never finds its rightful place.

I’m shaking, I’m hurting,

I’m just taking up your space.

The past spins out of tune when I’m in doubt

About whether forgiving you

Was the best route.

And you have seven other copies of me

But I didn’t agree

That you can simply use them whenever I flee.

Still – you don’t take my words at face value,

Leaving me hungry,

Stripped of all the values.

I refuse to step down to your level

Because the anger’s too clever

To get shamed and called a rebel.

So bring out your best battle swords.

I’m shaking, I’m hurting,

I have a bloodlust for your wicked words.

-JW

Note #185

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I hope you bite open the misery pills like I did,

Choke on their acidic poisons

Covered in your whitest fibs.

Don’t call dibs on my morals, not just yet.

The walls are closing in on me

But the floors are soaking wet

And they might cave in to set me free

From the last torture device in this town

That still brings you glee –

The lava leaking down my back.

Oh, the irony, the always fruitful tree.

I was never your problem,

Yet, you insisted that it takes tree

To love, to tango, to cause a riot…

I was a wild mango and you threw me out

Pretending I’m too rotten to be on your diet.

So tell me – how does it feel right now

When all you taste is bitterness

And every second is a waste somehow?

I hope you bite open the misery pills soon,

Choke on the sentences that branded me

Forever your little fool.

-JW

Note #317

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The waves flush us bone dry,

They crush over us repeatedly.

You were once my Versailles

But your armor defeated me.

No, I’m not really your fool,

I’m just a victim of the times.

Sorry for losing the cool,

For dismembering your chimes.

Yet, you know I have a spite that bites

And two angry feet –

You can pick and choose your fights

But I’ll still be your defeat.

-JW

Sacrificing The Voice

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And I digress from the compromises I made,

From the lies I confessed.

My eyes surrender to the horizon this time

And the highs reach out to me,

They engulf me in peace –

So I profess.

The chants are left behind as I levitate,

I raise both my hands to the sun,

Hoping it’s not too late.

There is no noise, faith decides itself again.

And my voice leaves

Just like another murmur,

Whirling with the first spring leaves.

-JW

The Searchlights

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The voices get angrier when the big searchlight in the sky goes out.

They try to take me through the paths that gaslight and sow doubt.

I chase the intrusive thoughts away by turning into a bright red blot,

And it is not necessarily a goal of mine but I am shooting my shot.

I crawl on my knees through the darkened streets without any shame.

The sounds echo in my brain without finding a corner to tame.

But the stars above me look like silver clots in a dark despair sea,

The humming of its silky splashes tail my mind in a minor key –

Until there is nothing else, just another rigid body in the water.

Someone will pull me out with a fishing line, call me their daughter.

The cycle repeats, the runaway in me starts loving the searchlights.

Too often the happiest endings never happen

Because of the darkest nights.

-JW

Spliced

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Do you even remember when I caged up your cast iron heart like a bird of prey,

Breaking each promise I made to myself in the most exhilarating way?

And I buried that cage away, under unidentifiable skulls and pale blue plastic,

I dug it so deep that your clear voice turned into some rusty static.

The lucid sunsets I used to watch from my bed turned uninviting and dull.

All the air around me shrunk in size until the atmosphere was a screaming null.

I placed my palms on the marks in my skin you left without thinking twice…

So I hope you remember this time because I’m setting ablaze our splice.

-JW

The City’s Alive

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The windows of the old pharmacy glow loud in the pitch black night.

I’m at the street corner you left me on, facing my oversights.

The wires over my head get me buzzed like cheap dandelion wine

And a neon cross escapes the church, it slides down the steep decline.

Blue eyes peer out of gates and doorframes, looking for my scent.

The bricks from painted walls tell them, “We don’t know where she went.”

I sneak around parks, hide behind gravestones until the coast is clear,

Until the city whistles louder than wind – so my frightful ears can hear.

The last shadows of the night help me to pave the long way back home,

And the cars hum in unison, erasing the cool fear of ever feeling alone.

As long as I keep waltzing faster, I know I’ll escape all the harm.

This city will wrap me like a blanket, it’ll hold onto me like a charm.

-JW

Note #405

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I know this silly story like a bland Bible verse.

You offer me comfort – the inside of a hearse.

Because the ease you preach is a fine excuse

For worshiping nothing else but your abuse.

And your teeth get sharper every damn morning,

I have to run on empty to chase the four winds.

Your lips keep smiling but they feel loaded

With chemicals that would kill me like a rodent.

But I’m not the rat that you’ve been hunting,

You always seem oblivious to this one thing:

If you want to see your true enemy clearer,

You simply have to take a look in the mirror.

-JW

The Lock

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These walls echo my downfalls but stay deadly silent about the glistening highs.

One could argue I built them for myself, god, don’t re-examine my alibis.

Each morning the dread keeps forgetting itself – and maybe there’s even a chance

For me to escape what I’ve created, lose the lead sprinklers I got for hands.

But I can’t get past the chain link fences, like a spell they push me back inside.

The hellhounds I welcomed in this home know all the escape plans I lazily hide.

The floor spins on its axis, it melts away until there’s nothing for me to land on.

There’s wind on my skin but I can’t see the door, it’s covered by a phantom.

I keep hearing them say – you have to break these abysmal loops on your own,

And, god, I know I’ve built them myself, but would it kill you to pick up the phone?

Even if it’s a beast of my own creation, do I have to break out of its head alone?

Because I swear there’s one unknown lock on my gate,

Cast in envy green stone.

-JW

Your Left Lung

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You questioned whether the city isn’t overwhelming me these days,

I hid little anxieties in the rasp of my voice when whispering the “nays”.

Maybe just by an accident or a loop in the system you truly believed

That on Sunday nights I’m not punching the stewing hot air in my sleep.

You saw me crumble behind the walls, you crumpled up my courage,

And the city was to blame for all my fear lacking proper storage.

The others stared in disbelief and their fury made my nostrils flared,

Somehow I carried my worries home as my silly pride got bared.

And you condemned my choices but still talked about every single one.

This blame game is the worst side-effect of living behind the gun.

My trigger finger shakes when you run marathons with your tongue

But I’ve never wasted a bullet – so you can rumour away your left lung.

-JW