Tag: leaving

Rules Of Fleeing The Burning City

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You can’t rely on this path dug by rebels like me.

It’s been crossed and dulled, impossible to see.

Can’t ride, can’t crawl through it in your Ante attire.

You won’t find a patsy to help you escape this fire.

Neon boneyards flaming in distance, viva Las Vegas!

Leave! Take all you can carry, call a powerful magus.

Hide with someone you trust in the city of betrayed

And hope this isn’t a night that you get played.

Cut all contacts or sweep them under the rug.

Don’t tell them what’s going on, don’t give a hug.

You can only swear on words of a rebel, hold on tightly.

Move up to the east, and keep moving there nightly.

Once the neon pollution leaves your left lung, sleep in.

The river is poisoned, the hills can always steepen.

As the air of the burning city flees your thirsty lips,

You’ll look back just in time to see how it still grips.

Staring back at you with its promise and realization –

Nothing incinerated, your mind was the ruination.

Those city towers were toying with your psyche.

You can’t rely on this path dug by rebels like me.

-JW

A Pin Drop

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What do you expect me to say? There’s nothing left.

It’s so quiet you can hear a pin drop, or a heart stop.

All the exits guide to the left.

Was there any fresh love between the two of us anyway?

Maybe we left it to rot for too long and forgot,

And decided to give it another day.

Is there a nice way to say “thank you for letting me down”?

I hope you don’t overreact when I lose my selfless act

And start selling the love in pounds.

Why are you always so quick on your feet to chase self-pity?

The night I went silent the first time, you became the mime

And I ran towards the city.

…I should’ve known when you came back, it felt annoyingly iffy.

Tonight I’m shaking you out in beams like a fever dream.

I’m free and I’m claiming this neon city.

I’m turning my kisses into hickeys.

-JW

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.

Leading Your Nightmares

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And I think you regret everything after all, don’t you, darling?

Who am I to guess your regrets after you came at me, snarling…

But the feeling was deeper than shame I exuded at the moment.

The warmth was taken aback the second true words were spoken.

I often dream about you having nightmares where I am the lead,

We’re talking loud, you’re being mean, yet – you can’t compete.

All your arguments crash against the surface of your shallow grave.

Who would’ve guessed? The most prideful of primates will go

Still lacking the skill to behave.

Don’t blame me – I didn’t have the time to dig you that ditch.

How many times in the past two years you called me a bitch?

Who can count? Certainly, not you, denial is the key to winning.

So today let’s cheers to the odds of you ever touching me again

Critically thinning.

-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

Partner In Crime

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After laughter comes either a storm or a signed peace treaty

Which might silence the rich or barely feed the needy.

Foresight is an artistic delusion, the future is delayed,

The bridge of this song rings true, yet the chorus is out-played.

Maybe we’ll call ourselves the raiders of the point beyond return?

You’re a little messy but it’s flattening my level of concern.

I’m not a room-reader and I don’t promise to keep you safe

But the undesired defects are kicking in, and my thoughts start to chafe.

The childlike sentiments must be cast aside, let’s play it honest –

No chance of surviving through this one if we play it modest.

We must escape even if I refuse to touch your open wounds again

Because my feet are too tired to hear the story about your left side brain.

So let’s ride it out and never speak of speaking, please, I’m done.

Let’s burn down this city, cut the ribbon and finally – just run.

-JW

The Forbidden Years

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Where I’m from sorrow is taken as a precautionary pill,

It’s overused to create some sound while the world stays perfectly still.

Where I’m from street names are whispered, never yelled.

The babies are washed in acid and bleach, their shoulders are never held.

Where I’m from fluorescent lights have been forbidden for years

So gather your things – let’s walk to the neon sparks with all of our peers.

Where I’m from laws are not about restoring justice or peace –

They simply drip ink until the culprit is caught so it puts villagers at ease.

Where I’m from blackmail is applied evenly on every soul

But only the ones who run so fast their heels turn red make it out whole.

-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

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

Leaving Ante: Part V

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Healing

We’re building a corporation from scratch – some luck and eighty-seven guns.

I’m calling you my co-conspirator when they find out so you don’t even run.

Zero factories around the globe, no employees good enough to hire –

Yet I’m convinced you’re the one ruining this, you started the tax haven fire.

The upholstery business is a nice shell for your mother’s inaudible cries.

It must’ve been Linklater who taught you how to be fine when the time flies.

My feet are sore from carrying the boxes of liquid guilt into the basement –

But I don’t mind, the art you keep and treasure was begging for defacement.

Now the flames are eating up the framework of the company without any shame.

Perhaps the next business we build will take less gasoline to stay in the game.

-JW