Tag: leaving

Leaving Ante: Part IV

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Escape (?)

I see a poorly lit bunch on the mountain tops, waiting for a confirmation sign.

No clue how to send the signal, the burning city left me dumbstruck and blind.

My voice is cracking from all the screaming, throat is aching viciously.

“I don’t have the strength to drag my knees any longer, just kill me and set me free.”

As soon as the words are spoken, someone gently grabs me by the shoulders.

My consciousness slowly drifts away. Are these like-minded souls or another cardholders?

Will they carry me home or will they take me back, to the neon lights of Ante?

I drift further away but in the back I hear them chanting: “Vigilante.”

-JW

Leaving Ante: Part III

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Trauma

How do you embrace the darkness, the fog lingering in your thoughts?

The guides have dropped dead and my mind is haunted, covered in moths,

So I’m praying to hills, I want to get past this mentor-less journey alive

But the wheels are turning to the uncharted territory, pulsating cyanide.

How to forget the grave they made me dig for myself, scarring me to agony?!

Yet – the actions are excusable because only the young and terrified will write a symphony,

A melody submissive enough for their listening pleasure, a hymn for the masses.

My shoulders still ache but I never sung the lullaby,

The one veiling plastic and hourglasses.

And how do you know there’s another side to the endless, smoke filled path I’m balking?

I’ve been penniless and dull, however, never have I felt like sleepwalking.

The dust is sitting still in the unforeseeable, contaminated air I’m chasing.

I know the fog is a part of the ride, perhaps – even the seatbelt, but really…

How do I embrace it when it’s easier to forever erase it?

-JW

Leaving Ante: Part II

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Caution

Dynasties of big-mouthed Roman generals in purple crawl the streets.

Spit and rumors everywhere, bald heads bowing their dirt-filled deeds.

But it’s not cheap to do the world dirty like that, to break a promise.

I was a kid back when I heard the last speech that was humble and honest.

My hate for the leaders made me hate my father, then – anyone who mattered.

If I had the option to save a friend or myself, I would choose the latter.

Not that I’m selfish or ungrateful, but the reality is nastier than fear.

..Maybe they’re close relatives? But what’s the difference if you can’t see clear?

(When I change for worse, I don’t want anyone near.)

So I carry on with a backpack filled with past disgraces, another one with future regrets.

Yellow bandana covering my dry mouth as the moon inevitably sets.

The purple crowds keep smearing truths back at the city, and I don’t mind.

I was raised to survive this war, not to lay my head down being kind in a fight.

-JW

Leaving Ante: Part I

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Stuck

The bar doors are open and neon light falls shyly onto the crosswalk.

A stranger bumps into my bare shoulder. It won’t interrupt the sweet talk.

Cigarette ashes land on glass tables and cover my stained ruby soul.

If he didn’t ask, I would’ve never admitted that I started at the pole.

Three stools away a thoughtless wave of laughter erupts, over and over –

I see doubt in the eyes of a girl and I want to scream, this much I owe her.

The moment is gone when a bottle of wine crashes leaving red dots in the corner.

Where was my savior back then?! Was I always a fraud and a goner?

My lids feel heavy as I’m guided to another cherry-colored car.

I wonder where my self-respect went, it really can’t be that far.

But perhaps my dignity was another re-run of a wonderful mirage.

-JW

Scarlet

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Our city is burning up in flames with ashes bringing it closer to heaven.

The place we reinvented from scratch chases me in dreams. Was it the haven?

I yelled at you for being rude and you dragged my ego through carpets –

You held my hand, we stole pamphlets and I painted the room scarlet.

Letting it go means cutting my chest open and pulling out the remains

Of what was once home to our passionate laugher, to hurricanes.

I can’t keep myself from asking – why does this feel like the end?

The truth will chase you down one day, no matter how much you bend.

Don’t worry, the ocean in me is swaying peacefully, I will take it easy.

Once you leave, I’ll pretend that the imprints you left on my lids weren’t greasy.

-JW

My Northern Lights

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I once had a dream where you picked up the signs,

The good, bad and human. The scratches and lines.

The backlash was making my vision blurry –

You never picked up on that, you packed in a hurry.

“Be my love, my northern lights and south pole,”

I spilled without thinking. Words swallowed me whole.

One look over the shoulder and out the door you go.

The room was spinning in light speed, sinking down and low.

Where did you buy the guts to walk away into the thunder?

We were so happy together, except for that one blunder.

Jack White was playing over our tragedy when the alarm went off.

I wake up alone between piles of white sheets with a bottle of Molotov.

The ringing in my ears has passed but my tongue is still dreaming

About your venomous blood, and how I cut it out of you when you’re leaving.

Piece by piece I drink it up from the pale, cold floor. Revenge is pleasantly bitter.

I open my eyes and shake off the nightmare as birds by my window playfully chitter.

-JW

Salty

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My love letters to you always describe how I’m sinking, how I’m out of air,

Lungs collapsing under pressure, nose bleeding fury and salty despair.

It’s difficult to take another step in your direction as I’m fearful

The weight of carrying this bond might break me when you brand me as an earful.

Why is our dynamic always the one between a ruffian and coward?

We keep switching the roles, but one is always overpowered.

Is it a crime – dreaming about jumping on a runaway train with you, then fleeing?

My words work like a liquor on you, some days you’re screaming, some – you’re kneeling.

Often we imagine getting violent, even when we’re stone cold sober.

I really wish my lust would get you stupid high but you were never a smoker.

Untitled pages of our story keep flashing in front of my eyes. They’re burning.

Evaporating in the spring breezes, getting twisted in sun, almost as it isn’t hurting.

My love letters to you have never been love letters, they’ve been anchors.

Half of me wants to go see the deep end, half – hopes I’m pulled out by a tanker.

Both outcomes will come with a very similar cost, with no precalculation.

Both twists will show me another way to master flotation.

-JW

A Dream

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My imagination keeps hurting me, it’s making up these memories.

It’s brining up these things that never happened, and playing the saddest melodies.

I needed very little but you made it complicated. You made me the fool.

For the rest of my days I’ll regret thinking that I knew you. I’ll make it a rule:

That you never lay your thirsty glaze on my spine before I grab a knife.

But you don’t make it easy, you read into my words. Please, get a life.

Pack your bags and go torture another creature in love with the helpless.

I would write a memoir about your messes, but there’s not a book that would sell less.

My imagination keeps hurting me, it’s bringing up these late night feelings.

But let’s not waste our time on those who are out of sight, let’s go with the proceedings.

By all means, let’s not waste another second discussing unimportant affairs.

We all know that love only tastes good when it’s mixed fair.

-JW

Seeing Red

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You sat there, one feet away, your arm right by mine. Your warmth – numbing.

I wish they could see me getting looked at this way.

They said I’m just trouble and my father left because of my shortcomings.

You brushed the fear away and you held me back when I was seeing red.

But when the sand castles I built came apart, I was screaming at the sea –

And yet, you didn’t see me as a threat.

You called me crazy a few times, I called you a moron, and we called it a day.

No matter what happens, your cheek in my hand is what matters,

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

You danced to the silly records I put on this afternoon when you thought it’s lost.

The circles you drew in the air while smiling at me

Was probably what I loved the most.

You have to go soon. You don’t know it yet but you have to leave.

I will drop out of this manic phase, I will break your heart without noticing.

By the corner we met you will heave.

You still are the only person I’m truly sorry to. I wish they could see me.

The way you looked at me like you could read between the lines of my mind

Made me think you could never leave me.

You know you can’t. I promise I’ll make it easy. My love, I swear –

If I had everything in this world, the only thing I’d me missing

Is having your scent to wear

Around my veins and arteries, pulsating,

Spreading your sweet naivety across the room

Slowly detonating

The strings of my heart.

My love, I’m only playing the part.

-JW

120 per minute

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Hope you’re good without me pulling your chest closer

Or making hair stand on your neck when I call you a poser.

It’s been a day since I’ve made you laugh so lightly.

I wish I could forget how I called you mine, nightly.

The thought makes me cold but what makes me shiver

Is how you sold me down the river

In less than a heartbeat.

My heartbeat. That’s 120 per minute and counting –

Should I chase you? That I’m still doubting.

After you had it in you to bleed me dry in a low place.

After for one brief second I didn’t give you the praise

You turned your back like I was never yours to play with.

What a fucking story! Or am I lacking the wit

To understand how it feels to betray someone who clenches your waist

During the best of mornings, worst of nights – until it all goes to waste.

I’ve been waiting for your mercy differently lately

But my arms are heavy and lips move sedately.

It’s hard to explain how much I need to hold you, despise my instincts

Yelling it’s more than you’ll ever need me – but in that instance

Is there anything left to lose for this selfish brain of mine?

I’m letting you destroy my concrete barriers like dynamite.

It’s just that kind of night.

-JW