I was never able to love the beast inside of me
So I fell for the monster in you.
Who knew – that the death of me
Will be as sweet as honey and stick like glue.
And it will suffocate me like the town I outgrew.
But the current carries my bones to the sea
While I’m clenching the shell you drew.
Pull the curtain back once you count to three.
Pretend you never knew.
-JW
Is there a point to this inner monologue anymore?
We’ve lost the sight of the shore, leftover memories spilled on the floor.
So hang me from another abandoned telegraph-pole –
This prolonged, unrequited speech is sultry, yet its plot has a hole,
A breakage as deep as my moon-drenched sentiments, or deeper.
No matter how hard I’m trying to exit this conversation, the catwalk gets steeper.
The sun has damaged my jet black self-pity, turned it dark blue,
And the wire I’m trying to cut has outgrown my wits, erased the last clues.
But maybe I’m not free to escape this two sided mirror image at all?
United with ones and zeros I stand, united I fall –
To pieces, like a high-end chandelier crashing on a white marble floor.
Is there a point to anything but this inner monologue anymore?!
Because they have taken away the door.
I have taken away the door.
–JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 