Tag: depression

The Judge

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Spent another day in my own basement letting the rain dull my thoughts,

Arranging a courtroom in my unfair mind, bowing to rusty metal gods.

I hear the jury sitting down upstairs, I hear the judge using his new gavel.

My brain’s ushered away to be used as evidence in this case yet to unravel.

The court proceedings fill me with dread, they’re agonizingly numbing.

Yet – my spite’s done with beatings so I choose to abuse thy cunning.

I watch my mouth spew sharp arguments, all based on years of correcting me.

They dig deep even though I promised to never call myself an enemy.

My tongue splatters acidic liquids over the already damaged wallpaper

And the windows shatter in deadly pieces, ready to let me meet my makers.

The body’s giving in to the pressure so I really start wondering – how come?

Why do I keep fixing the floors and ceilings if I still call this palace a slum?

But you know the answer, and so do I.

The judge catches me in a terrible lie

I’m bound to another day down here,

Self-imprisoned, ready to disappear.

-JW

Your Own Gravedigger

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The visions don’t stop arriving at the gate,

They fill my sizzling pockets, bate after bate,

Until there’s nothing to offer in exchange.

Then they burn their carriages in flaming rage.

The suspense tightens around my chambers,

Pulse rushes to conclusions, rips the papers.

My spine vibrates from all the vivid feelings

Thrown at my face from this leaking ceiling.

But the cemetery’s watching quietly, wisely,

It’s eyeing my carcass, “Oh, you entice me.”

The black birds chirp thrice before it begins.

My smile gets widened by a sharpened brim.

I keep waking and falling, and waking again.

There are carriages, carnages and a single amen.

The thoughts keep digging me an early grave,

And when engraving the headstone,

I hear them spelling my name.

-JW

Death’s Wearing Her Perfume Tonight

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Balsamic scent floats all over the house, all over the garden,

It dances on the tip of our tongues, it begs for pardon.

It whirls like dust, bright lilac, and it stains our teeth.

Who will be the first to stop drinking it?

Who will realize we are stuck in a heath?

The thick odour keeps attacking the senses in gentle gushes.

Sickly sweet particles contaminate the air and everything it touches.

Our faces are paralyzed, our eyes roll back in the skulls.

Who will be the first to breathe out?

Who will call out death’s tricks and lulls?

It appears there’s no other way out of the swelling fog,

The mist bathes us in sorrow, is this the epilogue?

The fragrant symphony threatens to overpower the sky.

Who will be resilient enough to exile it?

Who will defy another night to stay alive?

-JW

Good Morning

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Lull air. Muted sounds. Pastel colors.

Walls covered in lies and gilded Madonnas.

Dull headache. Severe injuries all over.

Wounds patched together with a single clover.

Unsteady breathing. Calming voices. Plastic.

Draconian measures taken to keep me spastic.

Ice cubes melting on my stomach. Cleansing.

An act of kindness to make me forget

The walls, chasms and dim gothic fencing.

I must remember, I have to retell the story…

But the trance overpowers me

And the pastel walls turn gory.

-JW

Reunited

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There are abandoned factory buildings as far as I can see,

There are leaves red as blood on a knife after a killing spree.

There are winds as cold as sin, but warmer than my hands

And there are shackles on my ankles, imported from France.

The city I’ve long forgotten stands before me so tall.

The city that branded me rotten, the place that shrunk me small.

Each wall explodes dust and it colours my skin oddly grey.

Each wall in this city views its visitors as an overdue prey.

I’m shoved into my room, put under a neon microscope lens.

The gates, doors and bridges are shut behind me

And I’m back in Ante.

No memories, no joy and no friends.

-JW

Apathy 101

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I bid my soul to the devil to relieve me of the pressure

And I begged the gods to take me.

They said they don’t deal with the fractured.

I don’t want to be unthankful, I just don’t think I’m alright

Because whenever the sun sets again

I’m crying for the dying night.

I waltz around rooms to walk out the sinister notions.

Churches crumble before my eyes,

I’m stale, envying those in motion.

And the silver lights of the forgotten city call for me…

I’m too weak to hold back the tears.

To everyone I knew – sorry for the apathy.

-JW

The 4th Stage

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The door is too far for me to reach.

“Please come and save me,

Please, baby, preach.”

The bed is too warm, it burns like hell.

The head is so heavy,

It’s empty as well.

And I want to crumble in your arms

But the verdict’s in –

You can only do harm.

My left shoulder’s numb under the weight.

… So I can’t move on.

I have to lie in wait.

My eyes watch the time slowly pass.

I imagine you next to me,

Barefoot on grass.

But the door is too far for me to reach.

“Please come and save me,

Please, baby, preach.”

-JW

The Emptiness

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I’m looking for the thing that will make me feel hopeful –

I don’t need a lot, don’t need the social or the noble.

Some thrown out fantasies will keep me grounded

Because nothing satisfies the thirst, it can’t be rounded.

Don’t tell me to pray or to call my ancestors –

I’ve seen enough circus acts where kings play the jesters,

And I don’t get along with anyone who I should prefer

Because spirit lifts higher than blood, mark my words.

“Don’t throw away the guard

For someone you should adore.”

We’re all petty cheaters playing this over and over,

And we don’t get over it because we weren’t offered a shoulder.

Seeing these games rolling doesn’t make me more hopeful

But I’m not looking for locals, for social, for something noble.

I’m seeking that one thing that makes it all make sense

But I’m scared it was always just over the next broken fence,

Something taken away by a coincidence.

-JW

No Light

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Red lollipop between her pale blue cheeks,

She’s not taking any prisoners today.

Second-hand bag and third rate heels.

Her mother’s hips and dad’s ashtray.

She stands tall by the neon but feels so small.

Parents never lifted her up very high.

Never her father’s princess of the ball,

Always the first to get a black eye.

With so much fake light, it’s hard to see stars

But she squints each night to catch one.

When the scenery turns into cold iron bars,

She’s off in another car,

Pretending to chase a mock sun.

-JW

My Dear Pain

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Extremely sad pictures are painted on my reflective walls today, it’s alluring.

My lungs trembling to the melodies of The Cure, yet – they aren’t really curing.

Every pore becomes an open flesh wound when I’m stuck in this hamster wheel.

“Go rob yourself of all joy and pride, go spread lies, sing off tune and steal.”

My brain is the enemy I knew I’d never win but I always cherished so dearly –

If I go down with its flawed narrations, you’re also going. Can you hear me?!

Do I even mean what I’m yelling when I put up the fight and try to survive this?

Not a day has gone by without me wishing I could take a bullet through my iris.

But that’s not true, you must know I’m not a reliable narrator by this point. Do you?

I’m the sad pictures on my own walls, yet – I’m also the vivid daydreams you knew

Back when we were a little less depressed and I wasn’t smothering my insanities…

So let’s go to war, my dear pain, throw a ceremony of prayer to help your own christianities

With my godless profanities.

-JW