anger – Page 2 – The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright

I want to open you up the way you tried to open up my guts.

The way you bled me dry with all the feedbacks and the interrupts

While simultaneously dreaming of me as some cold cuts

On your dinner table – too bad you were always a klutz.

I trusted your instincts the way I never trusted my own.

The only sounds you want to hear from me are quiet groans –

It’s never easy to admit I’m not silly and that I have grown.

Yet the hardest part to bear is that I’ve set silence as your ringtone.

The farthest part from truth is the closest to reality. At least – mostly.

I don’t dream of lives or of deaths because I don’t sleep.

Don’t shush the lion inside before the propane cranes rise above me

And knock the crap out of my conscience. That’s one thing I should keep.

But nothing is sacred when a victimless crime takes its place.

The only rights or wrongs in this scene are how you set the pace.

As the lack of air will cause them some trouble when I puncture,

They will deem myself as a culprit when I’m really just the vulture.

Isn’t it the culture?

I lose structure.

My loose morals do rupture –

But I won’t break unless they capture.

A few good men

And loose pieces in my head.

With all due disrespect,

You die the way you make your bed.

Red. Inbred. Unthread.

Whatever’s your excuse, you’re not mislead.

This is the place you should pray to drop dead

Before fed the sugar of lead.

-JW

Some choose to follow the same predicament, the dusty pavement.

The particles are getting their brain rusty, but it’s a statement –

To be hollow, or not to follow? What’s the difference if time is borrowed?

I have such hunger to fearmonger. Don’t need to write down your area code,

If needed, I’ll remember the red house by the Silk Road. If needed, I’ll reload.

Some choose their steps like they’re graven, not to wake the death raven,

But feathers fill their lungs gravely. How bravely they cave in

At the slightest of touch… I clutch my madness and run away, blindly,

I’m alone together with my thoughts, oh, please don’t mind me.

Treat me unkindly. I need my feathers ruffled, nightly.

Some choose to stay put in four walls until something better calls –

The drying paint is shriveling the souls like bright leaves during falls.

It might be a stunning scenery but I prefer one wall broken. Helps the greenery.

What a pity I am, so well made and shiny, but unbound by machinery.

I bet they would cut out my heart – if it wasn’t a thievery.

Some choose to never leave me be.

-JW

Tag: anger

Sugar of Lead

Red house by the Silk Road