These wooden doors I carve out on Friday nights
Turn to gravestones under the Sunday light.
These violet hopes I hold in my bottomless pockets
Grow engines and shells, then turn into rockets.
The pit in my stomach tells me money is sacred
But only if I can imagine them naked.
The scarf on my neck gives me scars so bloody
I curse the cruel gods who created my body.
-Jackie
I don’t know how to tell myself “no”,
So, I let petty things and jewelry distract me.
I’m nothing but a price tag myself,
And I worry my small problems will one day attack me.
I demonize those who do better,
I root for their downfall while inhaling fumes.
They probably feel how insecure I am.
They don’t want me to stay in the room.
Still, revenge is the one thing that drives me,
And if I don’t feel it, I don’t feel at all.
My lack of self-control controls me.
I’m scared that one day it will tell me to crawl.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 