Tag: author

Poor Baby

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Your house is crawling with bugs,

And they are singing my name.

They put holes in your rugs,

Trying to bruise you with shame.

Your windows were bulletproof,

Now the cracks are showing.

Back when you called me a fool,

You swore the glass was solid.

Your clothes are hanging from you,

There is dust in your eyes.

You called my memories untrue,

Now they are burning all your lies.

Your house is crawling with snakes,

And they are shedding their skins.

Think fast, baby, hit the brakes,

Let the whiplash erase your sins.

-Jackie

Your New Religion

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You told them you have the right codes to decipher my plans,

You ensured that my exit from your world was nothing but grand.

While you were busy coming up with my downfall, I got an alibi,

And your walls started crumbling but you did not know why.

You told them that I was nonthreatening to say the least.

As you were digging a grave on the westside, I moved east.

One day I was nowhere to be found, but you took it as a joke,

Then you recounted every paper-thin promise that you broke.

But I was too far to know exactly when it all came to fruition,

Too far to hear the screams of you facing the realization.

You told them that you have the means to fix the burning façade,

And you came for me like a curse, but I crushed you like a god.

-Jackie

Dancing In The Abyss

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They dance in the warmth of the fire that is killing me,

They sway calmly as every part of my soul dies in agony.

Yes, I am out of tricks to save me from this prophecy.

Yes, I am done with becoming their sweet little parody.

They told me the secret is to scream into a pillow,

The trick is to dull the edges until I do not feel them.

“I swear no one cares as you weep under the willows,

I swear no one sees the bruises if you just seal them.”

Still, they dance in the warmth of the hate I always carry,

They sway calmly as my grey ashes get buried.

Yes, I have tasted death and it tastes like cherries.

Yes, I have been to the abyss and it no longer feels scary.

-Jackie

Hurricanes

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There is nothing I can put on this page

That would look better than a stain.

There is just me and my smoking rage,

Me and my miserable pain.

I know that nobody wants to listen,

But I keep talking, nevertheless.

In the dark my glitter tears glisten,

And no one says I am depressed.

There is nothing I can write down

That would heal me from the disease.

I have tried to drown this town,

But I was stopped by the police.

I know that somebody hears me,

That is not quite enough to survive.

All I need is for one person to fear me,

To dread me being alive.

Still, there is nothing I can say

That would make me more meaningful.

My words are a wicked play,

They feel just like a bleeding skull.

I know that this too shall pass

Like all the hurricanes I have killed.

One more raindrop in the glass,

And the waters will become still.

-Jackie

Victimless Crime

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They ask for my secrets,

Even beg me to let them in.

They don’t know I’m not sleeping

Or fighting a war I can’t win.

They spill their drinks on me

Until I drown in the fumes.

I hear it’s a fallacy –

Destroy those how know the truth.

They try to take a bite,

Wrap their mouths around me.

They don’t know who I become at night,

Don’t know they cannot drown me.

Then they go quiet occasionally,

Especially when I walk by.

I watch as they wait patiently

To murder me with an alibi.

-Jackie

Backstabber

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The tongues continue to clack as you leave another foggy room.

You gave me two bruised knees, you gave me the pale birch broom.

Now you run around the city wondering who spilled your secrets,

And the name on their lips is mine, so you stay stressed and sleepless.

Their teeth glow in neon blues whenever you dare to feel happy.

I hear the streets have finally learned what it takes to trap me.

They are coming for your blood again, and this time they will succeed.

The tongues will grow dead silent as your back will begin to bleed.

-Jackie

One Spark

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My mind hides itself between empty pages,

It traps itself in thoughts about ancient sages.

It attempts to escape what I know and remember

And forget the hope I lost this past December.

But the memories shuffle and snarl at me,

I hear them giggling about my failed dignity.

Maybe I am projecting, maybe they are right –

All would have been different if I finished the fight.

Yet, I felt the calling of an early grave,

It roared from the end of the road I had paved.

All I have is one spark to find a new route

And save my flawed mind from a deadly drought.

-Jackie

A Little Forgiveness

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Love, I hope you know I won’t die for you,

No, I can’t die for you right now, can’t do it tomorrow.

My mind runs like an animal in the zoo,

Trapped yet still hopeful to escape all this sorrow.

Love, I hope you can forgive me for being late.

Perhaps I won’t show up, perhaps I’ll die on my way.

Pain is gnawing at my stomach with raging hate,

Playing with my arteries, treating me like prey.

Love, I hope you see what I’m going through.

The next morning isn’t promised, and I’m done trying.

Yes, I’ve loved you for years, and I’ll love you anew,

But for now, I must step away because my heart is dying.

-Jackie

What Happened Here?

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You hold your words like a murderer’s knife,

And it’s dripping blood on abandoned beehives.

You poison the rivers with your crocodile tears,

And the green gardens die as the summer nears.

You cut all the ties to what I have created.

Each thing that I adored becomes a thing I’ve hated.

You break stories into half like dry branches,

But mine bends to the wind until I run out of chances.

You scrape the sanity out of my bones

Until the snow melts and the leaves change tones.

You drop me like a weapon after a massacre

Until people look at me and ask:

“What happened here?”

(But you, you never really have the answers,

To you we are all just pretty dancers.)

-Jackie

Grave Digger

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All the scars I left on your villainous skin ache when you think of me,

And your bones, they always hurt like a broken apology,

Just like the one you never gave me,

Just like the one I never returned

Right after I said I’m done surviving your fatal burns.

Yes, you treated yourself like a victim when I was fighting for my life.

No, it was never my threats, nor it was ever my sharpened knives.

The lights were on, everyone saw it,

But it wasn’t the first grave you’ve dug,

And just that easily yet another victim was swept under the rug.

But I managed to slip through your greasy fingers like running water,

I ran to a far land where no one called me a sister or a daughter.

You tried to track down my mind,

You searched all the deserts and all the mines,

Then angrily smashed every part of legacy that I could call mine.

Still, all the bruises you marked me with pulsate when you near me,

And your harsh words rule my head like it’s a tyranny.

But one day you’ll be done,

One day it’ll crash over you like a wave,

And you’ll be out of unruly women to blame, accuse or defame.

-Jackie