Tag: Dreaming Through Silver Screens

Hypnotic

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The metronome blankly ticks my consciousness away,

Counting the last moments before I become your prey.

I do not remember my name, I do not recall my age,

But you speak with conviction, and it tames my rage.

Next page, I must turn the next page of our story.

My dreams keep swearing you have always adored me.

But the suspicion grows like a seed in healthy soil,

And my soul warns me as you call me awfully spoiled.

Between car wrecks and stab wounds, you call for me,

Promising a brand-new start built on stolen honesty.

I do not remember ever asking you for this palace.

My role is a Sisyphean task, and I am not your Alice.

Yet, the metronome has no loyalty, it just ticks away,

Remolding my empty life from zero in scarlet clay.

-JW

As Above So Below

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I abandon my last hope at the dusty stone door like you asked,

I unload the revolver on my belt and set ablaze the intricate masks.

The grey catacomb ceiling slowly rumbles above our heads,

It does not accept our gifts or the blood we have willingly shed.

My legs shake, still – they take me through the seven loops of hell,

And my feet move clandestinely, fearing to break the ice on a well.

I see a simmering red light in the distance, but I am too frightened,

It seems to feed on my doubts and sins whenever my heart gets quieter.

There is a pit of darkness snarling hungrily above and below me.

Yet, I must admit – devil’s breath on my neck makes me less lonely.

My thoughts, I need to tame them, then find an escape out of the dark,

Even if it is just a moment of god’s truth before I lose my spark.

But the portal is closing, freezing over my frantic crocodile tears,

I hear them whisper victoriously:

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

-JW

Hush

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Silver echoes from better times ring like alarms in my head.

No, I cannot stop the sound, I let it paint the corridors red.

Someone is knocking on the kitchen window, but I do not look.

I gather all my arrows, bury the knives and the hooks.

Gloved hands are scratching the glass and pulling the doorknob.

Your breath leaves mist in the crisp air as I silently sob.

We both know you can enter whichever way you please,

But your master taught you better, kill only after you tease.

And I must admit, I almost did not feel the bruise in my thigh.

The high of the hunt is not like any other kind of high.

My vision is blurry when I lie on the frozen bathroom floor,

I am ready to give in, yet I am ready to hurt you some more.

Your eyes peek in between the curtains and the dirty shades,

You want me to hear you slowly sharpening the rusty blade.

But my innocence traps your boiling blood and ghouls outside.

I am out of shortcuts, and you have nowhere else to hide.

Crimson echoes from a dying future hug my weak neck.

No, I cannot keep me eyes open, cannot save this wreck.

Somebody calls my name as I drift off with my selfish thoughts.

I release my prisoners, ending all the wars I have fought.

-JW

Love

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You boiled me down to epithets and false narratives.

In your mind, it made sense to make me into a negative,

A burden on your neck, dead weight in your pockets,

Someone with the same flame as yours in her eye sockets.

You wrapped their tongues around my collapsing lungs,

All for a hope that somebody else will keep you young.

But I figured as much, never trust a negligent killer.

Every word you have said to me has been a silence-filler.

You reduced my fuming emotions to facts and figures.

As I went numb, you got ready to pull the last trigger.

Yet, the weight of my love will live, it will be reborn too,

And even in death my cold eyes will forever scorn you.

-JW

Lucille’s Dream

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You haunt the halls I walked last year,

You leave them shaking in cold fear.

The walls that built us crumble down,

Leaving bright rust on our crowns.

I bind you with the spells and records,

They blind you with the fruit nectar.

Love, you can find a home in me,

Please do not drink the poisoned tea.

You fear the hands which you once loved,

You buried all our turtle doves.

The chariots that brought you here

Now take your bones to rest, my dear.

-JW

Dead Of Night

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Darling, we only exist on other people’s tongues,

We mix with their saliva and slide between their fangs.

They are a famished crowd, but we feed them well,

And the darker our lives get, the more we sell.

Darling, we exist in old mirrors in their rooms,

We watch as young brides are killed by their grooms.

One day a wise lady will smash the silver surface,

Leave her man crying and burning the doormats.

But it will be an illusion, darling, need not worry.

We will bathe their impure souls in morning glory.

Our story is like Dorian’s, devilishly young.

Darling, we only live beneath other people’s tongues.

-JW

The Haunting

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The manor door creeps open as the cold breeze shuffles red leaves.

Pale moon sneaks through the branches, it watches the lake breathe.

I walk to the old cemetery and learn every gravestone by heart.

The greenhouse keeps calling me, but my brain is covered in darts.

The pain pushes through the skull and breathes on my trembling spine,

I hear shadows in the distance whispering, “she is mine, mine, mine”.

Silky windows stare back at me like a nightmare encapsulated,

But every time I blink, the faces of the ghouls grow more faded.

And the manor door shuts behind me like a cold and sudden goodbye.

Dying stars stare back at my wide eyes, singing a haunting lullaby.

-JW

The Old Ways

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You lit black torches in the dark room as I had a blindfold over my eyes.

The dry flowers in the corners grinned, the stench kept away fruit flies.

My skin lost all its pattern when the moon climbed over the horizon,

Grey creatures yelled into my scared face, asking what I was hiding.

They kept me chained to a heavy bed until my limbs felt defenseless.

I cried loud when I tried to escape, so they burned down the fences.

A demon wept in the closet, it tried hard to break my soul in half.

My lungs screeched and growled until I spooked it away with my laugh.

You lit my palms on fire and caressed my hair as the room shook.

The salt on the doorstep ignited, burning down your notes and books.

I looked at the face of my own failure and could not hide a smile.

There has been a beast inside of me, it has been there for a while.

-JW

You

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It is not enough for me to only see you wrapped in the shadows.

As the rain falls through the dark, your voice makes me hollow.

It is not enough for me to only chase you in the palest reflections.

As the candlelight bridges rivers, I have so much spare affection.

It is you I want, it is you I chase like a long forgotten lullaby.

As I wrap my hands around their necks, you are my final alibi.

It is clear – even the creases in your dress are flirting with me.

As you walk home each obscure night, I pray for your courtesy.

It is not a secret, you want me to step into the darkness with you.

As the fog clears, your irises are painted in the softest of hues.

It is not enough for me to only see you wrapped in vibrant life.

As the sun hides, I take your limp body back into the deep night.

-JW

Crimson Peak

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The bottom of your beige dress leaks bright crimson on the floor,

And your velvet shoes leave red footprints by the bedroom door.

The voices follow, they swing steadily like oak branches in the wind.

You lock your chambers and kill the lights, but still hear their hymns.

There are strangers by the window, cursing out your family name,

And the night will not be over until your sheets drip in shame.

The clock in the study counts down bodies buried in the backyard,

Their ghosts float over you, shooting daggers at your naïve heart.

The storm roars as snowflakes sneak through the holes in your roof.

All the candles start burning at once, leading you towards proof.

But you knew for a while, you just chose to breathe in love fumes,

And the night will not be over until you save the souls of the doomed.

-JW