Tag: anxiety

Growth Spurts

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There must be something so satisfying about the way I hide my hurt.

The crumbs of sanity fall out of me until I become plain and absurd,

But everyone seems to love it, and I wonder whether I should too?

Pleasing all the souls I meet turns out to be my personal Waterloo.

The pressure sticks its filthy nails in my ribs when I am not watching.

My old dreams float by, I no longer consider them worth catching.

There is still a fire behind my pupils, but no one sees that spark.

I do not let anyone notice my dripping eyes in the thickest dark.

Another morning always arrives a moment too soon and it hurts.

The days in the calendar cross themselves off as I wish

That I am all out of growth spurts.

-JW

Is This Luck?

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Three years in the purgatory can feel like throwing away a pound of flesh for free.

Everyone who cared even slightly tried to kill my curse,

But I kept crawling, blinded and obsessed, high on a killing spree.

The light I chased like my personal Northern star ended up being just cheap neon.

The work I put in quickly turned into secondhand dust,

It was polluted by the greed of some silver demons.

Still, I chase the dream like it is worth combusting alive for, but the days drag on.

I wonder why I sold my mind, was it worth it?

Why did I write my death sentence in orange crayon?

The desk sits heavy on my chest as I go through another unfulfilling nine to five.

Everyone who cared chases their own curse now.

If I am lucky, I will be the first one to make it out alive.

-JW

Demigod

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When the demigod speaks, everyone must lower their heads.

That is how the system works, kids, keep chewing on lead.

My clock is stuck on a moment in time that feels too soon.

I want to get out, but we are not allowed to look at the moon.

When the demigod speaks, everyone must raise their hands.

He will throw out a spear and see in which flesh it lands.

My clock is ticking down moments I can never get back again.

I want to leave, but I am afraid to see another dead end.

When the demigod speaks, everyone must suffer in silence.

You cannot escape the suffocation in caves or in highlands.

My clock is whirling out of control, it wastes away my time.

I am begging for a crack in this glass cage,

But I fear it will reveal my crimes.

-JW

Hive

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When all goes according to plan, my inner critic eats me alive.

The easy way is never the right one,

And the mind must always buzz like a hive.

Even if my head works like a charm and I manage to lift the curse,

My head drips red judgement ink

Into an electric anxiety hearse.

When the watch is not running the hours correctly, I crumble.

There is a part in me I fear the most,

A part that never learned to be humble.

Even if I master the minutes, the rhythm is never quite correct.

My tongue cuts open the folds of my brain,

Replaces thoughts with lies and neglect.

-JW

Before I Drown

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They keep telling me how I should step into the white light,

How I should chase it with even whiter noise and whiter lies.

I hide between juniper branches during the darkest nights,

Using poisonous berries and figs as my only disguise.

They creep up my legs but cannot take the violent screeches.

My back grows horns as soon as they whimper and cry.

I have been shooed away by seven dishonored preachers,

Saying wicked creatures like me should not even try.

But I learned to see the light in people’s actions years ago.

My pride swallows itself again when I fail to see my own.

They keep telling me that I could out-spin pure vertigo.

I grin and quietly whisper:

“This is my last plea before I drown.”

-JW

Do Not Stop

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The dust falls from the sky just like snow did this winter.

It was so many moons ago, but I remember the splinters.

My feet used to carry me past snow piles with such grace,

But death was covering my coffin in dark grey lace.

Sleep was my most violent nemesis, it kept me starving.

The fatigue quickly got to the point where it felt alarming.

I whispered to myself, praying I can keep going forward,

Hoping this is not the last sentence in my foreword.

The cold got to me, and my legs gave out almost daily.

Some mornings I could not get up as the room felt hazy.

My pupils swam aimlessly in my eye sockets for hours.

I dreamt of building bridges when I was burning towers.

-JW

The Downward Slope

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I reflected at the still lakes,

I searched through hundreds of wells.

They say I am missing my heart.

Well, I do not know where it fell.

The mirror image says nothing.

I am out of pity and patience.

The deep waters still scare me,

Even if they are an imitation.

My thoughts joke crudely,

Taking away the humanity I saved.

The left leg punches thin air,

The right one breaks, trying to be brave.

And I am stuck at the beginning,

Always tied to one more hope.

The end is reaching out its sharp claws.

I am headed for the downward slope.

-JW

Anxious

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You’re sitting on my collarbone,

Dangling your legs over the edge.

Your two little swords pushed into my skin

So you don’t fall off the ledge.

My heart keeps racing for miles

When you electrocute my chest.

My ankles shake and palms tremble.

No rest for the anxious, no rest.

And the brain gets lost in the fog

As you blow sapphire smoke in my skull.

You haven’t left my side for years,

You’ve painted me fragile and dull.

Tell me, when was the last time I slept

Without your tight supervision?

I wonder if you ever get tired

Of turning my body into a prison.

-JW

The Visitor

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When the attic door creeks, it’s a bit too late to leave.

Tell the crimson in your cheeks to fade out once you bleed.

When the curtains slightly rattle, only then choose your battle.

Enter the last raffle before you drop the selfish prattle.

Sneak behind the dusty closet, just ensure that you close it,

And keep the fear in your pocket, it will be your last deposit.

Grasp the rug with your nails if all these other tricks fail.

Lower your white sails while the others chase their tails.

Never make a confession while looped in a deadly obsession.

You must only use the Hessian if you want to hear the question.

And when the back door creeks, collapse on your own feet.

Tell the nerves in your beak, “We’ve made it another week”.

-JW

The Showman

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I guess I’ll just burn in my own mind’s oven

Or throw out my resume and build a new coven.

The thirteen of us will meet in the fields

Where strong people rise and weak men yield.

I guess you’ll just watch me take back what’s mine,

Not a word will object this, only deep sighs.

Once the flames start climbing high over our heads,

I’ll give you a minute to make the amends.

But I guess we’re just never going to fix it,

Go drink all the betrayal, you’re the one who mixed it.

This one time I won’t burn for your petty pledges,

Pick up the shreds, don’t cut the claws on the edges.

And I guess I’ll just stand as the rest of them bow,

You said it’s not the right moment – but the time is now.

It’s your time to take the heat as an atonement,

And you can keep calling me a dirty witch but, honey,

Soon they’ll see you’re only a showman.

-JW