Tag: Candy’s diaries

Flamethrowers And Butterflies

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My hands tied behind my back, eyes covered with two dark patches.

Sounds are slipping by me in circles, lights are dancing in flashes.

Your hand in mine was the last touch I asked for, what I wanted.

When they took the blindfolds off, I took your red cheeks for granted.

Then they shut the sun off once again and chained me to a neon cross,

Took a flamethrower to the first butterflies, burned them with the fresh moss.

Concrete squares as far as I can sense in my blind disbelief, or further.

My feet bleeding from their coffin nails, but this isn’t a murder.

This is my own mind throwing itself in a free fall, chanting “salvation”.

I’m pulling all the magician’s tricks to get back into narration.

The lock is too heavy and my wrists are too loud to play it by ear.

My hands tied behind my back, eyes covered

But I manage to let out a single tear.

-JW

High Towers

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Bullet holes and bullet points scattered on grey brick walls for me to chant.

It’s either one or the other – the options are limited in the land of the grand.

The street corners are cynically empty – and doesn’t this simply prove the point?

“Leaving your walls is a disheartening happening one must always avoid.”

Sorry, that wasn’t me, another writing on bricks is broadcasting my shadows.

Would’ve shot the out of tune frequency in the heart but they took all my ammo.

The longer I search, the greyer these horizons become to my neon-bound imagination.

The more I dig up the clues, the more I’m convinced this heavy blood needs chelation.

High towers look down at me from across the sea when I reach the desired shore.

They pledge to protect me if I fight for a decade but I’m way too soar.

Cliffs let go of my feet as I’m pulled back to the streets washed with fine greed.

The echo chases me down yet misses by second, repeating the words:

“You must lead.”

Only once freed. Only once freed. Only once freed. Only once freed.

-JW

Blue Collar Trash Roots

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There’s a rush outside of this building, there’s a lively carnival playing.

Everyone who was enjoying my smiles no longer wants to be staying.

I understand how I’ve done them wrong by being my raging self.

Changed my skull thrice for their viewing pleasure into a heraldic delf.

The curtains are taped to the floor but I manage to shoot a single stare in.

Thousands of on-loop rebels cheering while white noise on earphones is blaring.

Eardrums collating their lack of skills in one washed out pantomime folk tale.

I pull on the curtain to fasten my blue collar trash roots in place like a forte.

There’s a rush outside of this building, there’s a lively carnival passing.

Everyone who left is better without me – jaywalking or trespassing.

-JW

Muted

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And hell turned on its back and froze over to warn me about these betrayals.

The people you choose to trust might not always be those with good final portrayals.

Demons whispered in my ear but what scared me was – they spoke god’s truth.

I turned all seven locks tightly while weeping, then for a month I went mute.

They knocked on the doors to relieve the pressure, they said they’ll forgive.

How is one owed an apology if they cut me for pleasure, not to outlive?

Making sense of the poorly made spider webs made me never step out of my bed.

The quieter I lied there, the more I noticed that my friendships were poorly fed.

And the walls kept the sense of normalcy while everyone spiraled outside of the truth.

I turned all seven locks tightly while weeping,

I begged my senses to stay numb and mute.

-JW

Mace

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A foot in the door, I can’t keep the clashing spirits out.

The triad snarling at me, spitting droplets of bloody doubt.

Silver mannequins surrounding the building in heated crowds.

The glass moves in ultra-waves from the sound of their mouths.

Why don’t they listen, I’m not trying to leave this place!

I can’t control my fear hence I spiral like a mace.

But there’s always a thousand fists beating me back to the start –

Wherever I hide, they’re aiming and shooting a dart.

The doorknob is sinking my chest down to the holy ground.

Two feet in the door. There goes my shot at being unowned.

-JW

Tampered Heart

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Two-faced wolves in my best friend’s clothing.

I look through my pockets so I could stop choking.

Would a tithing help me make it through this round?

These predators are quiet and their silence makes a sound.

The morning is approaching with its hefty promise –

I run to the west, I rush towards the congress.

Here the sun raises later and betrayal never stings.

The wolves choke on rivals while others plead to kings.

Wire-Eyes zooming in as I fall down on my knees.

He’s been waiting for a chance to politely cease

The suffering this city pours onto tampered hearts,

And I’m his favorite because I never play it smart.

Disheartened I crawl in a corner, sit on the icy floor.

My best friends come rushing through the locked door.

Just two-faced wolves in my best friend’s clothing.

I look through my pockets so I could stop choking.

-JW

Isolated Frequency

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Sometimes I forget I’m not alone in this fight

And those voices can still tell wrong from right.

I cry myself to sleep when I remember how far

I could run without stones tearing my shoes apart.

But it’s midnight and everyone’s sound asleep.

I guess those demons are mine to keep

And wrangle by suiting their every need.

If I do, my safety’s not guaranteed.

But I look through the window.

I push away greed.

-JW

John Doe

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I don’t usually fall for things but I fell for your plastic carcass and rubber skin.

Pulled me in with your featherweight but I can tell your patience is wearing thin.

Your hair makes a sound only the driest of savannas can reproduce in the heat.

I hear there were many before me yet I’m chasing my luck by sliding underneath.

And underwater riddles are my favorite because the pressure is higher than the tempo.

No wasted words, the air is running out but you’re yet to learn that you’re the John Doe.

Not a single dove in this fairytale to deliver the message of you losing this round.

They’ll say the battle is up for the grabs while your glass eyes will let me get crowned.

-JW

Escape Diaries

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How do they control me when I put pillows on my ears?

How do they contort me if rut’s as mellow as my tears?

They’ve been conning everyone. They cut those who share.

They’ve put lighting in the bottle and smut on the ones who care.

How are my hands empty if I grab straws while crashing down?

How were thy lands plenty when some steer laws like lashing clowns?

We’ve been shy but twenty is enough to make it out.

We’ve swum by their heavies, one more day to plan the route.

One day more and no more drought.

-JW

The Pain Man Sings

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The smoke coming out the arena in old town square is never harmless.

Chanting voices in the airwaves sound so sharp, they’re charmless.

I step forward, one with the crowds, dancing to the sound of sirens.

All we’ve ever known here is abuse so we enjoy the violence.

Amplifiers know we hear them, we just don’t listen with our souls.

Their five year plan was to ruin us, and they’ve been scoring every goal.

Cellular devices all over the city lose power when the Pain Man sings.

If you don’t denounce “truth to power”, he will kiss you with blue rings.

As we approach the thick smoke, people are torn out of the groups.

I look around only to see they’re dragged by our own, not the troops.

The arena is filled with bright objects they took when we were harmless.

When we’re pushed back in our rooms I notice – the sky has gone starless.

-JW