Tag: fiction

Sheets

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The main street is too loud, let me take you somewhere quieter.

Your car is too noisy, pardon if tonight I’m acting like a rioter.

The sheets on my bed are white, and the walls can keep it mute.

Please look at me, love, please watch it, you senseless brute.

The darkness in my room is calming, it comes up in waves,

And all the drugs in your system make your dull head behave.

The sheets on my bed are crumbled as you lie without purpose.

Please look at me as midnight drifts into foam, burns in turquoise.

The locks are all open as I push you out of sight, out in night.

There’s no one to have your back anymore, no one to your right.

The sheets on my bed are red so I move into another cheap motel

Under a different pseudonym, with another man under the spell.

-JW

The Second Skin

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The one is gone and it’s off to the races, I keep on racing,

I bow my head, I contradict and lie about the fear I’m facing.

A tall stranger smiles at me, then another one, and another…

I drift away on my selfishness, mistaking enemies with lovers.

But I share the bed with my demons despite all the warning signs.

The clock in my room has stopped, none of this time is mine.

A blood stained light in me tries to break out, it’s brighter each night.

Once I stop fighting, it’ll blur my vision just enough

So I can’t tell wrong from right.

-JW

Mad

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I lit a candle and wished you’d never dream of me,

Even in nightmares, even in the deepest sleep.

My condolences to those who loved your charms.

I hope there’s no one left greeting you with open arms.

But my curses won’t haunt you the way I wanted

And my prayers will never be taken for granted.

When my chest was torn open stich by stich,

People helped to dig you a bottomless ditch

Just to bury the witch as it was supposed to be done –

With a hanging, burning and drowning,

Looking down the barrel of a gun…

So I lit a candle and wished I’d never dream of you –

Even in daydreams, even when I greet the tomb.

-JW

Victimless Crime

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I don’t know about your policies or your disclosure agreements.

I didn’t read the papers until I sealed the deal

And caught the fleeting feelings.

You don’t want to hear my arguments, don’t care about excuses.

You didn’t put the pen in my hand so technically

These are self-inflicted bruises.

They don’t notice what’s happening, they claim inculpability.

They didn’t write the contract so perhaps

I should look at my own morality.

So we carry on –

The people don’t mind but they never promise to wish us well,

Faking their smiles and feeding the ego,

Even when keeping one ear to the shell.

We hold each other whilst burning the policies and agreements.

“Burn the pages,” they said.

“Burn the paper planes, not the feelings.”

-JW

Hexes

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What are you thinking, why are you turning into someone I can rely on?

And why are you coming closer when I still have the past on replay

Without a shoulder to cry on?

Not sure how it started but I’m re-reading yesterdays’ words all morning.

This one time you called me enchanting and I wondered

Whether it meant that you’re falling.

Am I growing into a person I once despised because I’m out of options?

Will I push you away, far behind the swinging plywood walls,

Or will I pretend to be less noxious?

So what do you have in store for me, why should I follow?

Before the night fades into mush,

You’re taking my mind down a crisp, cold hollow.

And I don’t know the way back, I don’t see an easy exit.

The way you take me down the path seems steady.

I wish for the strength not to hex it.

-JW

Scheduled

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Two hours forward, eighteen back.

I dance around the schedule,

It’s compromise I lack.

Sixty more clicks on the keyboard.

I’m never done with counting

And putting down a petty sword.

When the dawn arrives, I fidget,

I spin around in my seat.

My moral code’s missing a digit.

And the coffee yawns back at me

When I greet it the next morning,

Hoping to unlock misery’s mystery.

-JW

Insomniac

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I count to ten before letting the medusa hair out of the hat,

Before turning my back, before turning this white rabbit

Into a sickly rat.

I check my own pulse and clear my throat before biting,

Before swallowing the ink and flirting with the end.

Dusk makes this scene exciting.

I imagine a stadium of people before continuing this dance,

Before jumping in front of a fast moving thought and combusting

Into bones and fangs.

I bow before the cheering crowds start pointing sticks,

Before the insomnia once again settles in, drowns me out,

Tells me it’s something that I can’t fix.

-JW

Eight Minutes To Fall Asleep

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The wheels are in motion, I move to the side.

Sounds startle my mind but I still let it slide.

Messages, greetings and formal promotions.

I move to the side, but the wheels are in motion.

An ode to terror, a hymn to my insomniac brain.

I’ll suffer for closure, not gonna let it die in vain.

Booklets, sliding doors and seven errors.

The hymn to my insomnia, the ode to my terror.

Eight minutes to fall asleep, two seconds to die.

Once you pull the ring off, even the heavies will fly.

So I hold myself close, this moment is mine to keep.

Two seconds to die.

Eight minutes to fall asleep.

-JW

Emptiness 123

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The iron gates I’ve seen for years turn rose gold.

Dusty streets burn in vivid neon, brutal and bold.

My escape attempts seem more like cries for assistance

Because when I look back, no one tried to give me distance.

The waters surrounding the scene look more frightening.

Calming the world outside is like catching lightning.

And maybe I’ll be able to live with my own reflection

Once the old kings start dying in rapid succession?

With the one I wanted by my side, I’ll take the gamble.

Maybe it’s this city making me dull, making me shamble.

But maybe I’m deciding to live with my pain on display?

I bid my soul to the devil to relieve me of the foul play.

-JW

Don’t Close Your Eyes

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You’re there all of a sudden and I freeze –

Is this another daydream of mine?

Are you too real to shake the disease?

Blue shirt and vaporized sweat.

I know I can’t close my eyes

Because each promise is also a threat.

I’d rather break watching you leave

Than fall apart days later

Melting my kneeling heart into steel.

Satin skin next to my cold feet

I can’t make myself look away

So I watch you go, accepting defeat.

Burgundy boots, red broken dreams.

Take it for what it is, take it.

The bigger the wound, the faster it heals.

And you’re gone with the first autumn winds.

I can’t remember if any of it happened

But I can tell it was real.

My chest still bleeds red and it tints.

-JW