Tag: Jackie’s diaries

The Darkest Sides of the Moon

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Help me sober up from the puddle of mud I chugged for you.

We’re not operating at the same frequency but it still rings true –

I cannot concentrate when your foolish mind runs around mine,

It sprints in circles, and I’m outrun, acting as if it’s fine.

No one’s giving a helping hand when I’m down and that’s normal.

I begged you not to cut my wrists and you asked to keep it formal.

One inch from the finish line is where I realized my painful mistake –

I didn’t let your cast iron heart drown in sea, I thought it was a fake.

You’ve been exquisite at making the darkest sides of the moon disappear,

And I’ve kept my guard up, kept the bridges burned and coast clear.

Somehow the mud in my stomach is making my heels unsteady,

And maybe we’re not on the same wave-length but to let you go –

I don’t feel ready.

But if you still have some love in stock, I won’t take any.

I’m not your lucky penny.

Not again.

I won’t take any.

Bloodline

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And my bloodline charged me with arson

Even though I simply lit one spark.

They tried me for treason – no particular reason,

They didn’t want me to leave a mark.

“Let the witches burn, don’t fight it,” I say,

“Let them scream, let’s imagine it’s all realer than real.”

I embrace how they turn the narrative to betray.

One can boil blood but can’t melt steel.

With this low gaslight temperature

They’re ruining the play.

I’m not here to stay.

-JW

Velvet

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A lot of undeserved luck comes out of this moment,

And I don’t nurture the fear, I choke the opponent.

I’m too aggressive, they say, a real big sounder,

But really, I might go mute if I go a little louder.

Out of Seattle the mountain lions are sound asleep.

In this short sleeve weather I’m singing to “Creep”.

The orange skyline spilling wet honey on my nose.

Being myself is still the most dangerous dose.

The boots sink into the dusty ground, creating smoke,

Contemplating this weird existence, sipping coke,

Riding the blackest ideas out, smoking them like velvet…

You know?

Once the blade falls down, I won’t wear a helmet.

-JW

Three Lights

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Staying safe in between the busy railroads,

Running trains brushing off painted antidotes.

The trees lean on my clavicle, cracking it in,

And feeling good seems to be the original sin.

Leaves shaking my ribcage with seven winds,

Heart chambers made out of empty cans and tins.

Roots graying out but I’m standing my ground.

Seeing the three lights approaching

Kicks my recklessness, so new-found.

-JW

Phrases

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“Can you tell me where it hurts and point me to the nearest exit?”

“Resilience is overrated in the promise land of Jokers who flex it

And your bruises are due already, pay up or leave the city.”

“Why bother leading the path if you could just look pretty?”

…

“Stand up and straighten your shoulders, baby, don’t be moody,

You’re not the next Marilyn in a black and white movie.”

“What’s up with the lipstick, don’t you want to go brighter?”

“I’m down for the fright but I’m not a real fighter.”

…

“Put a smile on that face, don’t you dare to make a scene!”

”You can only afford to be either sexy or perfectly lean.”

“What’s up with the jumpers, mate, are you finally expecting?”

“Please don’t drink and drive while you’re also texting.”

I hope you don’t find me writing down your innuendos vexing.

(Stop playing god, your moral’s perplexing.)

-JW

Farewells

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Nothing makes my days calmer than the absence of you.

And for some reason I didn’t have the power to let you go –

On my own, without someone pulling the trigger for me.

Only blank bullets rained on you so it didn’t hurt. Sorry.

But the taste of freedom is feeding my senses decadently.

I want to take in the moments as if they’re the last to see.

Maybe I’m mean but you burned me blue for your pleasure

So let me keep the memory of you leaving as a treasure.

-JW

Building A Lullaby

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The perfect balance does not exist on a faulty planet

And destiny keeps playing drums on polished granite.

The rhythm section is not coming along as planned.

It sometimes scares me – here we stand

Just to end up as few grains of sand.

I try to amplify the echoes but they all fall flat on the ground.

Plastic crates, even metal cages do not resonate the sound.

The lurking chords are getting wider with nowhere to go

So I talk in my sleep while it snows.

At least my nightmares have something to show.

-JW

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