Tag: dystopian world

A Dystopian Novel

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There are these full circle moments when the drums stop ringing in your ears,

The sound paralyzing your every move turns into a river washing out your fears.

But you can’t stand up, can’t raise a hand to greet the overwhelming sun

And the mountains seem golden, yet you’re careful about letting go of the gun.

There are moments where you reflect on deflecting your whole past and present,

The bass is penetrating your heart muscles because trauma isn’t pleasant.

Skull pulsating harder than a carnival stage filled with betrayed manic rebels.

Anxiety-driven you rush through the memories, climb brave through the levels.

There are moments where killing your mind with noise becomes a simple mischief,

But you pull that trick way too often so it grows into a cult, you bury it like a christian.

You might need a decade to ditch the part where attacking your senses feels fine.

The longer you ignore that pain, the more likely you’ll turn it into a dystopian novel

with rhymes,

like mine.

-JW

Picture Perfect

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Shattering circus mirrors on grey streets, my boots punching straight through them.

Setting fire to another pastel advert asking “us ladies to starve and lose ‘em”.

You cannot blow up the crooked system telling you how to be happy dying

But you can bite its head off trying to hear how the filtered buzz is lying.

The feathers of poorly made starlet costumes flying off as I tear them open –

If we’re exploring what beauty means, let’s also show the parts that are broken.

There are no friends in ecosystems built out of denying every human emotion,

Made out of caricatures of people who only stay young by staying in motion.

“Another pound gained means another rumour that her husband doesn’t love her –

We didn’t write the rules, it’s her fault she kept thriving when others ran for cover.”

What is this obsession of being camera ready and acting the part as well?

Your life is not up for an Oscar so stop reaching for the poisoned wishing well,

And your lungs are designed to scream not to swallow every shallow remark –

Lovely, please, dig a hole in the dust to bury the voice that haunts you

And leave the grave unmarked.

-JW

Growing Pains

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I keep picking apart every challenging moment I’ve felt

And I turn it into another foolish misdeed on the shelf.

A sinner, a torturer, a victim of my own darkness, a fraud.

I refuse to call myself anything less than somebody flawed.

But I want to grow up, I just don’t need to grow old today.

The harder I try to play it safe, the harder my parents pray.

I’m not a bad person, I’m only the worst with myself.

Can you even see how hard I’m trying to reach out for help?

Yet – my ego’s rotten and I’d rather make it tragic.

My brain’s a one way road to sadness, you can call it magic yet ratchet.

-JW

Assigned Loneliness

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Too much time spent with lovers but without anybody to love.

Whenever it gets personal, I flip the script and burn the whole show.

Cannot allow anyone to know, anyone to find out the withins

So I watch the world from side lines while it practises spins.

No one wins in a game of two where the first one is cheating

While the other turns a blind eye to third parties bleeding.

And maybe I’ve never been good at business or tango, or chess

Hence I keep looking for insignificant loners to undress.

…Perhaps it’s the sense of running out of time that drives me

To choose quick battles instead of picking up wars to win wisely.

But loneliness cannot be assigned by others, it has to be felt –

As long as I’m feeling nothing, I’ll play with what has been dealt.

-JW

Stolen Mirrors

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White bedroom walls, all matte,

not a reflection in sight.

She was willing to die for that,

not for being right.

Sun turned up to the brightest,

not some neon light.

The words in her head – not biased,

not always ready to bite.

No mirrors testing her worth,

not a noise in the realm.

Her body wasn’t the hearth

and she took over the helm.

“Rest, dear, you’ve been hurt,”

She whispered, still overwhelmed.

“Years spent in standards so absurd,

Might as well live with just walls

And skip replacing the doorbell,

Even if you’re compelled.”

She has taken over the helm.

-JW

A Single Round

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They kept asking me to apologize for the pain that they inflicted,

My back against the floor and my palms still only half infected.

The concrete pushing against my shoulders as I sit on the ground.

“Agreed. Take your shots at me but you each get a single round.”

Their terms of service didn’t understand the notion to simply fire

But I obsess over little things and small people no one admires

So I took their ignorance guns right to my ears, right to my heart.

The empty bullets stuck to my skin and punctured it like a dart.

They begged me to say I’m sorry for shooting myself with sorrow

When I was the one in the corner, still willing to face tomorrow.

The trauma keeps crushing my temples as I sit on the ground.

“Agreed. Shoot your bullets again but you each get a single round.”

-JW

Frostbite

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Stuck between a rut and a manic firework show pouring sparkles in the cuts.

Luck always outruns the ones who pretend that no gates are constantly shut.

Rude thoughts intrude my white blood cells, whispering how I’m a prude.

Crude laces and nude portraits covered in mud spin around me, reckless and lewd.

Lost, my hearts crossed in this sin city of Sue and sewers covered in rust.

Lust wraps the frost but I still feel pity that’s due. Eyes grow distant and crossed.

Dark lands leave marks on my shoulders while mirages sing to me through an arc.

Hark! The fire sparks, cold and ruts are camouflages of anchors dragging my soul

As a barque.

-JW

Seven Armies

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Jumping off the high horse with my name carved in its sides,

Wondering about what caused world’s greatest wars and suicides.

My mania is pouring out the chalices, strangling the victors.

Seven armies couldn’t hold it if the rules were any stricter.

Fields yield silently before me as I stab their crooked flesh.

What a pretty picture this is – slay with fear all dressed in mesh.

Not a single soul in sight to test my bravery and titles.

Rebels staying by my side, resting guns on red hot rifles.

Doctors tiptoeing around me with their pills and perfect crimes –

As they throw their words against me, I throw spite in twisted chimes.

Drums of Ante sing in distance but I kneel and grab the dust.

I cut open all my scabs to dip my ego in green lust.

-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

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