Tag: fiction

Fire Exit

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels

Pulling the scabs resurfaced on my brain, burning and drowning them,

Pouring on alkaline but it’s missing, dripping down, making my ego numb.

Cutting the old battle scars open to look for some fruitless revelations

But it appears I’m fresh out of clues, and these scabs are my damnation.

Squeezing my neck tighter to stop the air from leaving my powerless bones.

It doesn’t seem to help. Voices are attacking like gargoyles, raising tone.

Deep down I know that waiting it out must do the trick but am I ready?

I’ve forgotten how to take the fire exit when the building doesn’t look steady.

-JW

Vault

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Vlad Chețan from Pexels

I’m willing to take the risk and sneak into the vault again.

You asked me to bring another shadow so I’m giving up the oxygen,

Putting on the rose armor, tying my laces, picking out rebellious thorns,

Wearing the faux leather helmet and imagining it has three horns.

I’m scared for my life to take the journey, to rip out another page,

To bring it back for others to read, then burn…

As if manuscripts really aged.

You know better than that, no unholy texts needed to rip me apart

But sometimes in order to receive your hits, I must work incredibly smart.

So I’m tightening the screws in my jaw, preparing the camouflage –

This time I have confidence that even the darkest caves won’t dare to sabotage.

No matter how many times I promise I won’t dig up the raising heart,

I’m always willing to sneak down one more time…

As if painful sacrifice really lived in this art.

-JW

Lonely Poetry Ritual

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Nicolette Attree from Pexels

Not missing you hurts more than holding onto your arm for dear life.

That was the part I least expected. Did you?

Did it cut like a hollow knife?

Don’t be fooled, I’m not looking for answers in lonely poetry rituals tonight.

I’m simply grasping the little ironies of how instead of leaving it all alone

I put up a fight.

The calm I feel now – wouldn’t sell if for 30 pieces of silver, I think Judas lied.

Or maybe he did it to embrace the peace afterwards,

And the offer of coins simply aligned?

But I’m not angry anymore – so it’s impossible to hang around the grief,

It’s even difficult to recall how rage fumed out of my nostrils

Hence I’m asking you to keep the goodbyes brief.

Not missing you is like taking a shower and rediscovering my own skin underneath –

Again, after all the slaps and bruising, and dragging my name through the mud

I’m finally smiling with my teeth.

Your time is up, old friend, please take the last empty seat.

-JW

Another Disaster in Time

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Matt Hardy from Pexels

I’ve been thinking a lot about loyalty lately and coming to terms with the fact

That the one bullet I cannot escape is being true to myself.

No, I’m not an act.

Many say I lack vision, others claim I come off as abrasive, lacking basic tact,

But who really hears their whispers when life and I, we signed this secret pact.

It was a summer day and my chest was burning – it was bursting lies, spitting pain:

I’m lying on the floor, counting voices, waiting for someone else to take the blame.

My hand reaches for the last sip of poisoned wine.

Someone pulls the emergency brakes on the train.

I sit up, wide-eyed in disbelief and I swear – someone muttered my name.

Knowing everything I’ve learned now I’d say it was my consciousness calling me home.

Yet – that feeling wasn’t present, it felt like my future has dialed the crisis phone.

It struck me that as long as I got myself in this fidgety world, I’m not completely unknown.

So I’ve been thinking a lot about loyalty lately and how without it you’re utterly alone.

An unmarked graveyard representing another disaster in time,

And, not to sound cynical, nothing’s blanker than a penniless crime.

So I’m pulling it all together, drawing a full circle – not betting a dime.

I must win the loyalty back. Be it a silent prayer or a pantomime.

-JW

Fox Force Five

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Francesco Ungaro from Pexels

“No such thing as stainless dreams, why are you so hopeful?

Do you think art matters, do you think you’ll be a mogul?”

I take the words in as a slap.

He turns his back.

***

Save a rainy day for me like a silent film that I will skip –

Once I’m done with hoping it’ll be your crocodile tears I sip.

Of course, I’m just messing around, sharing my lucid nightmares,

Don’t take anything I put out there as a reason to feed your fears.

The lounge music is digging up curses thrown my way

But please, don’t you mind. When it comes to you, I only pray:

For your business to keep booming when I’m in distress,

For the child to arrive safely when it’s birthed by another mistress.

I budge and let you kneel when you prey your way back.

Hope you know it’s mercy, compassion and forgiveness I lack.

-JW

Partner In Crime

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Binyamin Mellish from Pexels

After laughter comes either a storm or a signed peace treaty

Which might silence the rich or barely feed the needy.

Foresight is an artistic delusion, the future is delayed,

The bridge of this song rings true, yet the chorus is out-played.

Maybe we’ll call ourselves the raiders of the point beyond return?

You’re a little messy but it’s flattening my level of concern.

I’m not a room-reader and I don’t promise to keep you safe

But the undesired defects are kicking in, and my thoughts start to chafe.

The childlike sentiments must be cast aside, let’s play it honest –

No chance of surviving through this one if we play it modest.

We must escape even if I refuse to touch your open wounds again

Because my feet are too tired to hear the story about your left side brain.

So let’s ride it out and never speak of speaking, please, I’m done.

Let’s burn down this city, cut the ribbon and finally – just run.

-JW

Safer

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Craig Adderley from Pexels

All the patience has drained, only sharp needles left in the sink.

I’m stitching my lips together, sipping blood like an unholy drink,

But the phantom thread is vanishing in my skin, leaving no marks.

I’m quoting Isaiah, howling in tongues, trying to drown the dark.

You can call my heart a grave robber but don’t dare to call it unfaithful.

The holy places I dug up left my mouth dry and heart – hateful.

Three ancient ghosts are screaming my real name over forests, so loud…

I hoped five inches of sand was enough to mask my past, safe and sound.

-JW

The Forbidden Years

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Thomas Plets from Pexels

Where I’m from sorrow is taken as a precautionary pill,

It’s overused to create some sound while the world stays perfectly still.

Where I’m from street names are whispered, never yelled.

The babies are washed in acid and bleach, their shoulders are never held.

Where I’m from fluorescent lights have been forbidden for years

So gather your things – let’s walk to the neon sparks with all of our peers.

Where I’m from laws are not about restoring justice or peace –

They simply drip ink until the culprit is caught so it puts villagers at ease.

Where I’m from blackmail is applied evenly on every soul

But only the ones who run so fast their heels turn red make it out whole.

-JW

Doubting // To Another Day

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Elijah O’Donnell from Pexels

This story is only partly true so you will have to imagine the rest.

The re-teller never existed. To you she might seem real…

Or was it all a test?

No, no, I’m quite sure that the narrative is truer than the actual story

And the voice sounds realistic but also too arrogant.

(Has she ever muttered “sorry”?)

To anyone reading this – please don’t jump to conclusions harshly.

If you say that I’m to blame, I will accept it.

At least, partly.

So enjoy the show and take the orchestra home if you can’t sit through.

Because the drums and the violins might hit some chords

Resonating with you,

Too.

***

My head has been bed bound for a decade and counting.

Nothing grows in a ceaseless fire,

It’s a storm of blips. It’s a form of drowning.

The clouds move unsurely through the stickiest nectar.

I imagine this is what death feels like

Because anxiety is my faithful specter.

My limbs are tranquil while the chest goes full Urie

And the focus is stolen from me,

The emptiness is filled with fury.

What about the jury?

Are they still out and about, ignoring the verdict they are going to serve me?

I look around. “In the time of need did they all desert me?”

Helplessness locks my senses, the room turns black. I bow to the unimaginable.

Not the first time someone called my pain unfashionable,

Even easily eradicable.

Yes, my head has been bed bound for a decade and counting.

And yes, I can take another day of drowning.

I can take another head recounting.

But please take away all the shouting.

You’re not understanding what you are doubting –

And I’m simply looking for mounting,

For someone who doesn’t suffocate by shrouding.

-JW

N

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Yoss Cinematic from Pexels

You’re an oil painting left in a shed to decompose,

The loneliness eating up the corners, pulling at your clothes.

You’re a sunset too bright to photograph for a fool –

The lizards are taking it in but you’re too precious to ridicule.

Your hair is grayer than foggy graves, flowing aimlessly.

Sentiment is a booked club, when I try to check in – no vacancy.

Your suit fits you well but so does the box cutter…

When you hear my knock, you might want to declutter.

Can you feel me entering, can you hear me tripping on steps?

Are you running or this is one of those mornings

Where you so tragically overslept?

-JW