Let the softness of my fingertips
Curse your heart and curse your lips.
How does it feel to lose control,
Watch your lover lose their soul?
I bet you have regrets and excuses,
You hope to call me a deadly muse.
All you have left are faded words,
Swearing to never lift a sword.
But all I can do is let you sleep,
Yell from the edge of eternity.
Let the memories steal your sanity,
Drown in belated apologies.
-Jackie
It’s OK, break the last hope in me and don’t hesitate.
Don’t you feel sorry for trying so hard to emulate?
It won’t be simple to live with this heart and this desire
But for five years in a row you have asked for it,
You’re the one to aspire.
It’s alright, take my friends and borrow my trophies.
Turn my beliefs into blow or cheap misanthropies.
If you ask one day – why does life hurt all of a sudden?
Don’t be afraid, put my body in dirt, sink it in a puddle.
It won’t help your struggle
But…
It’s fine, peel my skin off and read my diaries through.
My unexpected exit isn’t the reason I’m feeling so blue.
The crowds are wearing my liveliness over their shoulders,
Expecting to gain the power of a hundred soulful soldiers.
That’s what’s shaking my coffin, making me older
But what’s living without a little after-life odor?
One day we’ll mold the ones that were always the scolders.
-JW
Three nights ago your tender skin kissed mine in a violent dance.
Three nights ago I asked you to be mine; I knew it wouldn’t last.
Three nights ago our thoughts were oblivious – so was the romance.
Three nights have gone by but I’m still waiting for the horror show to pass.
I waited on that street corner, wrapped in words of people passing by.
The sun went higher as my hopes got lower. I don’t know what happened next.
Was it the cellphone ringing or was it my gut-wrenching cry?
I don’t recall the order… Just the endless pity calls and the stupid texts.
Three nights from now I will be burying your things in the backyard.
Three nights from now you will be turned into ashes ten miles from where we met.
Three nights from now our song will play on the radio, the one that tore us apart.
Three nights will go by but I won’t be able to forget your eyes
And my regret.
-JW
When I die, I will become the queen of the clouds.
Not that I would ever go to heaven – straight to hell, without any doubts.
I just think that my freshly vanished body would haunt people’s dreams,
It would reappear in their nightmares so often they would run out of screams.
They would take me out and right up to the judge –
But no matter what they said, I would act like I was holding a grudge.
The moment they look away, I’ll be gone and off to take the throne.
I think ruling the up above is also reserved for royals who once have been overthrown.
-JW
Spider webs of emotion tied through my senses, recalling the past so bright.
When I was younger, I was clashing with every soul – what a cost to make it right.
Swords of ill kept pledges dwelled from behind, blades racing through air.
When I was younger, I was crashing into every hurdle hoping to find something fair.
No one heard the cries when I transformed into the huntress of unforgivable.
Loaning sins and trading good lives for desperate ones, lending the unspeakable.
Pathetic men dressed in red capes tried to warn me but they turned to stone…
If they only marched faster, I would retreat. I wouldn’t have to make it alone.
Tonight the executioner is blinking thrice before filling Satan’s cup.
Chains around his chest is not jewelry. They are gilded butterflies, tied up.
Oh, Z, but imagine how quiet it is on the other side. No one to betray or berate,
No alliances. Just imprisoned efforts and no strength to hold a pen. To create.
With my stolen innocence I offered you peace. You crushed it to dust adversely.
Yet my mind is not secular when I hear your voice so I pick the land of no mercy.
Let me jump. I know I’ll make it to purgatory. I’ll find a way out just scarcely.
-JW
Met you in an empty beach, so lonely and dry, it resembled a deserted island.
Took you for a walk through the greenest of forests, through waters of diamond,
I made the fields of flowers bloom for your green eyes, but they cut me deep
When your smirk pushed me down a hill so dangerously steep.
Met you in the lowest of trenches, Marianas couldn’t stand a chance –
The darkness was pushing my head against the metal, death and I had this dance
Where she took a step to the left, and I went in for a kiss like it’s nothing.
Somehow she always missed the veins but her rejections was awfully cutting.
Met you in the coldest of winters. Love, it’s still freezing, my bones are brittle.
I’ve stood for months in this weather when I promised – I’d stay just a little.
My hands have gone numb, my vision is blurry, and I cannot follow your voice
As you refused to speak when my blood froze – like I had a choice.
Met you in a ball, so crowded and loud. The air was heavy from my lustful breath.
You were dressed in white, and when you saw me – you acted as we’ve never met.
The candlelight spilled all over my shoulders and turned my anger neon blue.
Why do you keep building worlds where we’re only strangers
When it’s always been just about you?
-JW
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
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 