Leaving the Sin City

Photo by Anni Roenkae from Pexels

Crime infested holy cities filled with lovers gone mad out of satiety,

Hidden in sparkling sacred water, writing their penal codes of impropriety.

I’m too tame for this lonely town of looney tunes – I don’t have much hope in society.

Yet – I can’t make it alone, so please pardon my selfishness and compliancy.

Too long I’ve traveled these roads on my own, lost track of it a few mistresses ago.

I’ve never loved anyone that I could have but their ghosts still follow wherever I go.

It’s hard to carry those shadows down dusty fields or wily mountaintops though –

But there’s nothing more dangerous than taking your past for granted. So I carry it,

Through the ice and snow.

On weekends my brain takes me to a place I want to wake up in when I’m dead.

Sadly, it doesn’t make any sense – the sin cities I fled hold me by a phantom thread,

They pull me into the bright carousels of cheap whiskey kisses. The tap tastes like led.

When your temptations call for you, you pay for them in the skins you shed.

Otherwise, they might take your head.

-JW

The Young and Defamed

Photo by Victor Miyata

Defamation is the strong suit of many, sadly – so is temptation.

I don’t share paths with these well-intentioned people, I’m creating my own narration.

The youth is neither rotten nor broken – it’s just caught up in the middle of a mess,

Facing trauma since the day we were walking. We’re used to loving distress.

Tiny spaces in shady places are often the only locations where we feel free to chafe –

But lads in their forties are trying to convince us that they crave the young blood and they love the chase.

I’m begging them to stop walking over the half-done graves before the benediction

But no one seems to drop the addiction to filth, and they won’t change the conviction.

It’s quite poignant how my presence causes people to prejudge my affairs

As it was decided centuries ago that I must only speak when nobody cares.

A few steps away they will sell my ideas for less than is legal – or even hand them out for free.

And who will be the first taker? A priest or a scumbag, or just another devotee?

The night is careless to those who reluctantly swim in its empty commitments

Because the ones who only live for the dark will hardly make a fair acquitment.

Dedication is the strong suit of a few, luckily – so is persistence.

I do split roads with many who are lost. Only those who run blindly at times will manage to make a difference.

-JW

Kingdom, On Fire

Photo by Connor Danylenko

The castle of tired hope keeps growing

while the kingdom around has fallen.

The black smoke rises and it’s snowing

grey dust. Is it too late to call in?

To call you? And let the silence murmur,

Let the abandoned dreams float ahead….

Damn, this daydream keeps gripping me firmer,

So tight, almost like it wants me dead.

This mirage of beacon is not a lighthouse

I would so desperately need to survive the storm.

But I must suffer to fully espouse,

To wear this blue tattooed body as uniform.

***

The morning will reveal our secret’s with its mist.

If we don’t carry our hopes quicker, our thoughts will twist,

Even the feelings clenched up in our fists.

Didn’t you know already? Not everything dead

is greatly missed.