Tag: Jackie's diaries

They Feed On My Stories

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Photo by Alexey Demidov

I see them holding my fingers,

But I cannot feel their warm touch on my skin.

The numbness flows through me like a river,

Pushing me down like a pin.

I know I must go on without feeling.

This is the path I must follow ‘til the end.

Severed heads float through the air screaming,

But there is no time to bend.

I rush towards the neon door,

Searching for a single sign that could stop me.

The eerie emptiness speeds up time,

And every new exit is just a copy.

I trip on the wires and cables,

Falling down the hole that they’ve dug so neatly,

And they rip my stories from my shaking hands.

I really hope death beats me.

-Jackie

A Thousand Little Fantasies

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Photo by Yura Forrat

In my city the stories keep writing themselves

While my dearest people change like the seasons.

The marigold leaves intrigue my senses,

And the faces I meet accuse me of treason.

The witch trials commence, but I’m a spectator.

I know that they will not relight that flame.

A thousand little fantasies blur my vision,

And I wish I could trap them all in a frame.

No, these streets will not let me capture the magic.

They glare at me as I write down these lines.

My city snaps necks of romantics and poets.

I avert my gaze and wonder why I’m alive.

The sun sets as it lets the moon out of its cage,

And the wooden church sings its ghostly tune.

A thousand little fantasies bleed into tales,

Turning my empty vessels deep maroon.

-Jackie

Unkillable

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Photo by Maria Eduarda Loura Magalhães

Honey, don’t cut the corners of my heartache just yet.

The white church has not even rung its bells this evening.

Don’t burn the wooden house, don’t bury the place we met.

All hope is not gone, I can still hear it breathing.

Honey, don’t take the anger out on my yellow roses.

The raven on the chimney is counting down your sins.

Don’t pinch your wounded ego, don’t split open their noses.

The city is still dreaming, I can feel it on my skin.

Honey, don’t pause for a second as you leave my room.

The wind licks my skylight, hoping to freeze your bones alive.

Don’t pray for the innocent, don’t count on my doom.

These city streets will make sure that I will survive.

-Jackie

Perceptions

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Photo by Mariana Montrazi

Perceive me, receive me, deceive me.

I hate that you people can see me.

You love the new hair,

You love the jeans.

Are you being mean?

Why should I thank my genes?

Adore me, implore me, ignore me.

I hate that you people don’t bore me.

You ask for tips,

You shoot your blank stares.

Would you even care if I kissed you as a dare?

Undress me, caress me, repress me.

I hate that you all want to bless me.

You lower your gaze,

Then shoot a dozen arrows.

Shoot me down like a sparrow,

Sell my bone marrow.

-Jackie

Reasons To Go On

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Photo by Plato Terentev

The rainy boulevard gnashes its teeth,

Trying to bite off little pieces of my feet.

I sprint from side to side, fleeing its mouth,

And I attempt to take a different route,

But the cobblestone streets keep screaming,

Accusing me of being a demon.

I curse loud in a park with no one to hear.

They used to make piles out of bodies here.

My neighborhood grieves lost centuries,

Blood and flames turned into eulogies.

And then there is me and my excuses,

My pathetic escapism dressed as a muse.

The old churches look with cold judgement,

Turning away my pain and my torment.

Still, the unkept cemeteries tell me stories.

They tell me I can make it to my forties.

Every little corner speaks in my ear,

Offering protection when the death is near.

So, maybe I can find reasons to go on,

Face it like those before me and move on.

Maybe one more storm will brew before dawn.

Maybe I am just an unlucky pawn.

The rainy boulevard gnashes its teeth,

Trying to bite off little pieces of my feet.

-Jackie

On The Other Side

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Photo by Andi Alexander

Sharp wind awakes me from a gut-wrenching nightmare,

And I find myself lost in an unearthly forest.

Tall trees lean over my head, ready to grab me.

I hear charcoal shadows singing my favorite chorus.

The crowds that once craved my blood like a trophy,

They barely even make me frightened anymore.

Pastel fumes spew from the pockets I used for anger,

And I do not remember why I once craved gore.

I know that my soul would seem bare to a stranger.

My wild hair and wide eyes would make a beast run.

But the weight that pushed me down towards the flames,

It now spins around my head, wanting to see the sun.

My bruised feet keep taking me further and further,

And I dream about the creatures I will meet in this place.

The sharp wind pushes me, it pulls me forward.

I know someone is behind me, but I cannot see the face.

-Jackie

The Dream

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Photo by imustbedead

Odd dreams sneak up on my subconscious when I rest,

And I shoo them away before something gets confessed.

But last night I dreamt about this old church burning.

Every screw in my stomach was twisting and turning.

There were people around it with enchanted gazes.

I knew I could find the arsonist in this place.

There was no wind, only the breaths of these watchers,

And they whispered to the flame:

“You should catch her.”

My body ached from the pure heat of that fire,

My heart ached from the pure hate they desired.

When I awoke, my skull was leaking grey brain fluid.

It was no dream at all, they were planning to do it.

-Jackie

Just A Taste

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Photo by cottonbro

I got him cornered,

I got him right where I needed him.

He begged for some mercy,

But I told him this was not a sin.

Apologies, apologies…

These words always arrive too late.

You need not worry,

Vengeance will clean the dirty slate.

I got him anxious,

Trapped in between these walls.

I bet he believes me now,

He hears how they can all talk.

If you miss the warnings,

You have to face the consequences.

He knew what he did

When he ran me dry of second chances.

I crave just a taste.

So what if it breaks his bones?

There was no one to believe me.

He must suffer all alone.

-Jackie

#2 The Ritual – Part II

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Photo by Heorhii Heorhiichuk from Pexels

The last thing I remember is meeting my old friends in this creepy cottage.

We all drank wine and spoke highly of ourselves while downing pottage.

One moment the last guest arrives, the next moment we’re all long gone.

I feel my body lying on some cold dirt, all I want is to reach my telephone.

There’s grunting, there’s digging, there’s the fact that I can’t move fast.

My legs are stale and my shoulders are numb. Is this feeling going to last?

As they bury another lifeless form, the drug starts exiting my system.

Maybe it’s just the rush but I get up, the night is clear, stars and crystals.

The kneecaps are barely cooperating but I have to get out of sight.

I move as quickly as my frozen limbs can take me, it’s fight-or-flight.

No one seems to be chasing me for a while until they finally notice.

There’s a highway not that far so I pull through it, the pain feels bogus.

As my shaky feet touch the surface of the road, I fall apart there and then.

One car stops after another but those who chased me hold their breaths

And count to ten.

-JW