Tag: loneliness

The Pastor’s Call

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Sleeping on the floor again to be closer to an ice cold surface.

Vultures approaching me slowly, flying around in circles.

The pastor called to get tomorrow’s casket in my dimensions.

My name’s getting lost on tongues, no one really mentions

How I ran faster than waves towards a steep shore to make it –

The rest of the world swam in sun while my face was moonlit,

And no one asked whether being on top felt better than drowning.

While the world slept, I cursed out the moon like wolves howling.

Smoking out the window at 3AM, half-tired and half-ready-to-go.

Using good thoughts and prayers sent my way as something to throw.

Nothing helps the anger of someone knowingly left for the dead.

Sleeping on my floor again, wishing the cold could wash out the dread.

-JW

Assigned Loneliness

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Too much time spent with lovers but without anybody to love.

Whenever it gets personal, I flip the script and burn the whole show.

Cannot allow anyone to know, anyone to find out the withins

So I watch the world from side lines while it practises spins.

No one wins in a game of two where the first one is cheating

While the other turns a blind eye to third parties bleeding.

And maybe I’ve never been good at business or tango, or chess

Hence I keep looking for insignificant loners to undress.

…Perhaps it’s the sense of running out of time that drives me

To choose quick battles instead of picking up wars to win wisely.

But loneliness cannot be assigned by others, it has to be felt –

As long as I’m feeling nothing, I’ll play with what has been dealt.

-JW

Symphonies

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The monster I raised is no longer inside.

No running or hiding from the spoiled evening tide.

Relief bouncing off walls, exploding from the chest.

I want to rest. I want to rest. I just want to rest.

Birds chirping to some long forgotten symphonies.

I dance and I swear, no one sees –

I can do as I please.

When I’m alone, I control all the seas

But only as long as the monster agrees.

-JW

Ignoring The Doom

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Stuck in a bit of a hollow place lately,

Stuck in a loop, deluding everyone sedately.

Trying to fit accordingly on every surface.

The bending and breaking is making me nervous.

Trust me, I’m trying, I’m reaching for the sun.

Trust me when I say – my hand is a loaded gun.

Let me climb the barriers on my own,

Let me use resilience that I have loaned…

Don’t wait up when the floor creaks in my room.

Don’t worry about it, ignore the impending doom.

I promise to keep on stretching for the light,

I promise to crawl, even if I get scared of the height.

Keep my silence as a memory of the days I screamed

I guess my need to become timeless wasn’t what it seemed.

-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

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

The Two Sided Mirror

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Is there a point to this inner monologue anymore?

We’ve lost the sight of the shore, leftover memories spilled on the floor.

So hang me from another abandoned telegraph-pole –

This prolonged, unrequited speech is sultry, yet its plot has a hole,

A breakage as deep as my moon-drenched sentiments, or deeper.

No matter how hard I’m trying to exit this conversation, the catwalk gets steeper.

The sun has damaged my jet black self-pity, turned it dark blue,

And the wire I’m trying to cut has outgrown my wits, erased the last clues.

But maybe I’m not free to escape this two sided mirror image at all?

United with ones and zeros I stand, united I fall –

To pieces, like a high-end chandelier crashing on a white marble floor.

Is there a point to anything but this inner monologue anymore?!

Because they have taken away the door.

I have taken away the door.

–JW

Take a Bite

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Walking the streets feels lonely since I’ve been doing it to pay rent,

So many strange faces and worn out places, so many mixed messages sent.

The blood doesn’t ache – but the heart breaking for my wasted youth stings.

It’s been a while since I’ve stopped running or held a pair of kings.

Shadows over my shoulder building up in an unholy, black avalanche,

Yet everyone’s convincing me – look back, it’s a dove holding an olive branch.

No friends out there left to betray, but my loyalties don’t lie in the past.

Only so many bites to take out of me, I wonder –

Who will be the very last?

-JW

Four Walls

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Fill my cup with the strongest of drinks, make me feel less lonely.

These four walls tighten around my neck but they can’t really hold me.

Let my fantasy run miles, please don’t let it grow too phony.

When it’s too tired to carry on, I’ll live on pain and no sleep. You know me.

Paint my wrists in the brightest colors, cover all the mistakes.

I can’t erase what has been done, I can’t process my past in hot takes.

Slice my arguments ever so gently – the slower you go, the better it tastes.

Cut right through my throat when you get the chance. Don’t hit the brakes.

Never hit the brakes.

Take all my lies and run with them, pretend I’m not bluffing.

It might feel wrong but by now you must be used to handcuffing.

Breathe my deadly fumes in deeply, reduce your life to nothing.

These four walls tighten around my neck, yet it’s the reality that keeps cutting.

Please… keep me company while the gates are shutting.

-JW

Bitter

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Here’s a bitter pill to swallow: they don’t need me if I don’t show them sympathy first.

They’re doing great. Everything’s lovely. The moment it’s not, they drink up my empathies with a godless thirst.

Too bad I’ve been too blinded by our history, reflecting into the unknown. I missed the warning signs.

I should’ve never taken up another beggar after one already tore my core into a painting of alarming sights.

But I’m not motivated by the anger. I’m writing this because no one’s here on these dawning nights.

It all passes once the sun starts creeping up the horizon, yet the bitterness is not erased by these morning lights.

I’m mourning our fights.

The thought of never seeing them again fills me with ease so maybe I should keep my heart locked away?

In the cupboard, next to a broken glass and shivering illusions of safety, shining brighter than the signs of Broadway…

Maybe I should built a festival out of this little hideaway,

Just for myself.

But I’d rather do it like Hemingway.

Here’s a bitter pill to swallow: they would need me more if they could add me on their resume.

-JW