Tag: anxiety

Fresh As A Daydream

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It’s one of those days. Someone breaks the news, the news break my bones.

Simple, logical. I’m lost in time and space. I’m freeing the dusty thrones.

Marching around the room aimlessly, memories bursting by my teary eyes,

Light speed is nothing compared to the rush of these thoughts, these lies.

I’m deep in self-pity and misery, angry at the destiny that cost me the sky.

Why do I only believe that there’s a god when I’m high on the cupid’s supply?

Then my song comes on. It crumbles. The reality reappears fresh as a daydream.

I start remembering all the parts you didn’t own, how I was always the A-team.

And the freedom sets me jumping up and down, flying down a flight of stairs.

My father used to say that goodbyes are only bitter if the opponent fought fair.

All life spent running from demons – maybe this is the one I beat facing him directly?

Maybe you were the one wicked curse not going in for the kill,

Maybe you shot to protect me?

-JW

Last Hope

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(dedicated to my past anxiety)

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You’re my favorite city light, my favorite paper cut.

For my every “if”, you have a concerned “but…”

And I don’t adore you that much when you cut my wings –

Yet you make my loneliness feel like gatherings.

(Maybe we weren’t the kings?)

Where did the time go while I stood perfectly still?

How come all the pages were burned in the paper mill?

You might not realize but it hurts – writing this verse,

Shouting at my future sliding before me in reverse.

(I must revenge the curse.)

Don’t mind me being foolish over another day.

My nerves are made of glass, my heart – of clay.

Correct me if I’m slurring through all the skull fractures,

I’m just learning this feeling was manufactured.

(Kill if ever captured.)

You’re my city of sin, my ghost town of innocence.

Every hope you mask with a crooked camera lens,

Shoot me twice in the chest, then wave the white flag.

The past seems fake, echoes are starting to lag.

(Fire, take out that drag.)

-JW

Leading Your Nightmares

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And I think you regret everything after all, don’t you, darling?

Who am I to guess your regrets after you came at me, snarling…

But the feeling was deeper than shame I exuded at the moment.

The warmth was taken aback the second true words were spoken.

I often dream about you having nightmares where I am the lead,

We’re talking loud, you’re being mean, yet – you can’t compete.

All your arguments crash against the surface of your shallow grave.

Who would’ve guessed? The most prideful of primates will go

Still lacking the skill to behave.

Don’t blame me – I didn’t have the time to dig you that ditch.

How many times in the past two years you called me a bitch?

Who can count? Certainly, not you, denial is the key to winning.

So today let’s cheers to the odds of you ever touching me again

Critically thinning.

-JW

Cain

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Being at ease is not easy when the mind is buzzing louder than the latest news.

It’s like living with a python, fearing constriction, then you find a bite and a bruise.

Has it been venomous all along? Was I running the wrong way for years?

Should I just feed it with the last of my pride and some one night volunteers?

No matter how much I nourish the beast, it comes back hungrier; I get paranoid.

Why is it making me go bankrupt, does it not know – nothing will fill the void?

Truth be told – nothing fills me up either so maybe she’s a worthy enemy after all?

God was reciting Corinthians but I was fortunate enough to miss that disrupted call.

Yes, you could say I’m lacking faith, playing with fiery positions keeps me at bay –

But don’t you be offended, at the end of the day I order this chaos and I pay.

And please avoid being gracious about my struggles to pay a rent for this brain…

With the corner of my eye I see shop windows reflecting the shadows of Cain.

-JW

Doubting // To Another Day

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This story is only partly true so you will have to imagine the rest.

The re-teller never existed. To you she might seem real…

Or was it all a test?

No, no, I’m quite sure that the narrative is truer than the actual story

And the voice sounds realistic but also too arrogant.

(Has she ever muttered “sorry”?)

To anyone reading this – please don’t jump to conclusions harshly.

If you say that I’m to blame, I will accept it.

At least, partly.

So enjoy the show and take the orchestra home if you can’t sit through.

Because the drums and the violins might hit some chords

Resonating with you,

Too.

***

My head has been bed bound for a decade and counting.

Nothing grows in a ceaseless fire,

It’s a storm of blips. It’s a form of drowning.

The clouds move unsurely through the stickiest nectar.

I imagine this is what death feels like

Because anxiety is my faithful specter.

My limbs are tranquil while the chest goes full Urie

And the focus is stolen from me,

The emptiness is filled with fury.

What about the jury?

Are they still out and about, ignoring the verdict they are going to serve me?

I look around. “In the time of need did they all desert me?”

Helplessness locks my senses, the room turns black. I bow to the unimaginable.

Not the first time someone called my pain unfashionable,

Even easily eradicable.

Yes, my head has been bed bound for a decade and counting.

And yes, I can take another day of drowning.

I can take another head recounting.

But please take away all the shouting.

You’re not understanding what you are doubting –

And I’m simply looking for mounting,

For someone who doesn’t suffocate by shrouding.

-JW

The Revelation

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It feels irrelevant to feel the rut I’m feeling, but it’s still true –

My mind is rumbling, I can’t hear the chorus through the blues.

The fences are getting higher and I don’t want to manage,

And every day I don’t, my brain gets twice the damage.

I didn’t know you were listening to my story all along.

To you it might seem that I’m visionless or not that strong.

To you the picture has been painted through a distorting mirror.

But I don’t care –

Come, take in my suffering from the cuts, almost like a killer.

Then he whispers:

“Step away from the catastrophe for a second, let me ground it.

I know that the truths you’ve been hearing sound astounding,

And somehow you keep on beating the current as if it’s your cure –

But there comes a time to realize that you will not be judged

By the pain you endure.”

-JW

Tense

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Anxiety is making me choke on dry bones,

I spit up barb wire. I’m in there alone.

The pressure rings louder than my ears can take,

It’s unsettling. I’m in there alone and I mustn’t hesitate.

I can’t play it safe.

The crashes and wrecks continue to frighten

But the guards are awake so I’m keeping it silent.

My nails are scraping the floors and the vents.

Where is the end?

Every turn keeps coming back to yesterday’s events:

Two fingers of whiskey, three unpaid rents.

Your lungs made of glass, heart filled with gasoline.

Might get you high, might be a fast release.

I’m grabbing my own hair, pulling out grenade rings.

Would kiss a chainsaw just so I don’t have to think.

But you knew it already – my ego is made out of dangerous things.

If you escape the hellfire by jumping in water,

your boat will sink.

-JW

Bittersweet Melody

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How do you live being soft-spoken? No shrieking, no debilitating insomnia or an axe in your chest?

How do you go on another day not feeling broken? Do you wake up after good 8 hours more stitched together than the rest?

It’s not a walk in the park to explain how my anxieties and other ticks make a day worse by the second.

Not to brag, but I want to leave my mark: crawling to every finish line with anxiety on my neck,

Yet coming in second.

The moment someone realizes I’m not kidding when I say I’m depressed is a bittersweet melody to my ears –

What a time to be alive, we’ve progressed. What a time to be alive… Now they know my worst fears.

Hope they ignore the tears. And open tears.

-JW

Bloodline

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Have bled through the walls of this haunted house I’ve built for myself

While others called me a quitter I stitched it, bookshelf by bookshelf.

It’s a nasty process, crawling through corpses to find yourself –

At one point you stop worrying about the medals and only attack to repel.

Have cried rivers for all the wrong people and killed my darlings in the process,

But no one told me it’s wrong – they only asked me to hide and oppress.

So I learned from my sins. I built a fence around the house so I can care less.

Took me two years to figure out that you only gain deeds if you aggress.

Have spat into the eyes of gods when they asked me to die, this I don’t regret.

Sure, not that happy about living another day, but I hate losing a bet,

Especially the one my bloodline put on my head, framed my photo in vignette.

The fact that I made it out in one piece, in cold sweat,

Always seemed to make them upset.

-JW

Distracted

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I’m sitting here, comforting myself – and there’s no one else

I’d rather trust to hold me.

My pounding heart demands a sacrifice each night,

It hopes to die so boldly.

The veins have turned to mist, another substance

They can’t truly carry.

I always think I’m falling when I’m out of secrets

Left to bury.

Living is the strangest thing if you’re alone

But you’re not really lonely.

It almost feels like you’ve made friends with fiction, and for that –

Others call you unholy.

Being the keeper of my youth and audacity to take cover

Might be an extravagant act,

But who is to judge the difference between curses to heaven

And a genuine fact?

Don’t lose your tact

When you are attacked.

The arena is packed

But you don’t have to react.

Distract.

-JW