Tag: Jackie

Fire Exit

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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

Lonely Poetry Ritual

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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

Cain

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Being at ease is not easy when the mind is buzzing louder than the latest news.

It’s like living with a python, fearing constriction, then you find a bite and a bruise.

Has it been venomous all along? Was I running the wrong way for years?

Should I just feed it with the last of my pride and some one night volunteers?

No matter how much I nourish the beast, it comes back hungrier; I get paranoid.

Why is it making me go bankrupt, does it not know – nothing will fill the void?

Truth be told – nothing fills me up either so maybe she’s a worthy enemy after all?

God was reciting Corinthians but I was fortunate enough to miss that disrupted call.

Yes, you could say I’m lacking faith, playing with fiery positions keeps me at bay –

But don’t you be offended, at the end of the day I order this chaos and I pay.

And please avoid being gracious about my struggles to pay a rent for this brain…

With the corner of my eye I see shop windows reflecting the shadows of Cain.

-JW

Doubting // To Another Day

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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

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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

Dead Flowers

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Electric sounds blasting through the floral patterned wallpaper.

The sound of seven hells bursting open leaves my lungs as a vapor.

Oh, go along, nothing to see here, simply red and yellow ichor exploding –

Yet the mirage above the mountaintops is rapidly imploding.

Can’t find the light switch, perhaps it has finally evaporated.

Perhaps I’m breathing in its suicide, and my chest feels weighted.

The ceiling is leaking holographic liquids into my tired hips.

Please wake me up once it’s all clear and the curve finally dips.

-JW

Butchered

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The thief inside of me has fallen for the undercover cop.

Each time I reach for the ledge I feel my stomach drop.

Now I question your intentions, were they withered all along?

If I only knew earlier – too many rights make a wrong.

It seems like you’ve thrown out my voice for the people to rip apart.

The brown eyes to kill for have turned my story foggy

And taken a butcher knife to the heart.

-JW

Taking Cover

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He first saw you the night you turned nineteen,

Bleach blond fantasies, mind desperate, yet keen.

Outskirts of desert formed your idea of love –

Now you have a pocketful with nowhere to shove.

He seemed to forget all the lessons you taught

And maybe too often he called you a fraud.

The years will fly by, the betrayal – remain.

The time will teach you to breathe but not to refrain.

He now has a mansion and a Las Vegas wife,

The most cheerful things that money can buy.

You can’t help but take it in, moment or more,

Before spiraling, throwing out all you deplore.

…He knew you never stood a chance against a goner,

Too lonely to cry for help, too scared to dishonor.

But you didn’t go back to the deserts he mudded

So maybe, just maybe, you’ve always known that’s it better

To run for cover.

-JW

Exitlude

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But she fights back,

Flipping off the pearl Cadillacs,

Spitting up cigarette ash.

And the clothes won’t fit like they do on rack,

And no one cares in the city of trash.

She was broken long ago,

You can barely hear the crack.

Let her go.

With or without you paying attention

She will win herself back.

-JW

Changing

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I hate the city in sunny days, my make-up looks too bright and face – too wretched.

Silver Cadillacs rolling down the crowded streets, blaring, ‘cause every madness has a method.

Men seeing right through the vanilla scent in my hair, women looking me up and down –

Do they really think I chose this life out of boredom and became this decadent clown?

Every other car on the street sends me silent air kisses.

I don’t know whether they think:

“It’s the normalcy she misses.”

But I walk past the cars. Across the dust clouds. They’re settling on my contact lenses.

I’m swinging through the joys of this wicked ride and all it’s expenses.

-JW