Tag: manipulation

The Great Freeze-Out

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A chunk of my heel has been missing for a while now,

And I bleed in the snow like a doomed ingénue

When the winter breeze told me a year ago

You took it when I stepped out of the lines you drew.

No way to excuse carnivores who eat for greed,

No way to romanticize cannibals like you.

My blood has slowed due to the freezing weather,

But once the spring comes, my pulse will fade too.

The leg might heal nicely until the next winter

Or it might as well rot to the bone like your smiles.

The pessimism in your voice was cut to the gut,

The only taste on my tongue for a month was bile.

I used to dream some doctor reached me in time.

I used to bite my tongue to protect you from swords.

What a fool I once was, what a shiny trophy.

Chew me up, spit me out.

Tell the crew when I’m no more.

-Jackie

Reading The Court Transcript: Manipulation

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Oh, but I know what happened.

Yes, I know that happened.

It happened.

You don’t need to tell me it did.

You don’t need to confirm.

The mountains were mine to move,

So were the storms.

There’s no shred of doubt so there’s nothing to prove.

He taught me that things could get worse.

You taught me things could get better.

That’s how it works.

But you’re not the recipient of this letter.

It was me all along,

Sitting in closets, haunting my soul,

Yelling at wind, singing songs,

Begging for a chance to become whole.

And all along I knew it was a trick.

Your words, they’re kind yet they sting,

Everyone around me got sick,

And butterflies lost their wings

While you told me you didn’t intend it to hurt.

You molded me like I wasn’t human,

Branded me a savage and a brute,

So it became the norm.

Now time passes and you sit with your truth,

Eat it up like a worm.

I know who did it so I’ll sit with mine,

Play your game of pantomime,

And if I’m wrong,

I’m fine being the one who crossed a line.

But if I’m not…

My heart is a prison, and I’ll assign you a cell where you can rot.

Because it happened.

-Jackie

Mugs

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The tea is warm, and my voice jumps an octave higher.

I spit out the words; they fall on the floor.

Face flushing, breath getting out of control.

You stump on my pieces and you ask me for more.

I was confused at first, lost a year to dead ends.

My body came apart at the seams each night.

Even friends told me I should stop crying wolf,

Even books asked me if I thought I was right.

You had your time exploring, picking at my brain,

Making sure I stayed busy while you observed.

When the nagging feeling escaped from my lips,

You took less than a moment to call me absurd.

Your first mistake was choosing me as a target,

Your second mistake was leaving footprints on graves,

Your third mistake was making yourself a martyr,

Your fourth mistake was thinking I don’t play games.

The tea is cold, and my voice stays cool and low.

I let the words roll off my tongue and I watch you.

Face flushing, breath shaking, no hint of a smirk.

Don’t you beg for comfort,

Don’t you ask for rescue.

-Jackie

Manipulus

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The gasoline is leaking out of your bad shoulder.

It’s been hurting since you put a hole in the wall

Because she didn’t let you hold her.

Now her face is just an apparition, fading so fast,

And your head is a long lost ghost ship

Fleeing all the safe shores half-mast.

The thoughts intrude and bite down with their incisors

As you recall promising her a sure grave.

Yet – her spite knew you’re none the wiser.

Now her body is cold but you barely touched her.

You merely gave her a foolish idea…

Maybe she was pushed by a bluster?

The flies are eagerly circling your puny defences

But you have all the good explanations –

Only you can’t say it to their faces.

The road ahead spirals like your fetid self-pity

And you know you’re forever haunted,

Even if you leave her bones in this city.

-JW

Capitulare

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She’s at the piano, playing her fingertips numb and soul sore.

Tinsel in her hair, glitter on the wrists, her childish mind at war.

The party around her roars like gunfire, she almost disappears,

Blends into the background hiding behind her faceless peers.

She’s on her tenth cigarette even though she quit a long time ago.

Whisky in her system, fuel in her one-track mind ready to blow.

No sadness, no regret, just a ton of anger in a short linen dress –

But don’t lose a finger comforting her, she’ll never confess.

She’s rearranging the thoughts but coming to the same conclusion.

The shivers slide down her spine, hurting like a contusion.

“What’s promised, must be fulfilled,” she silently whimpers

And tries to ignore her own violently shaking fingers.

She’s on the balcony unamused, not even slightly entertained.

The man by the bar represents all her guilt doused in heated shame.

The bottles stacked on expensive tables shatter at her sight.

Her lungs collapse under the relief of crashing into the dolomite.

(The people sigh as he winces:

“She wasn’t in her right mind.”)

-JW

Before I Wake

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I remember how I fell for two kind words spoken in a greyish dawn.

No color anywhere but in your lips, you fit in like the blindest pawn.

I guided your intentions downhill with my unfillable desires, seeking redemption.

Not a single hair moved on your chest when I called you my emancipation.

“Playing chess is unfair if your opponent has never learned to hold the rhythm

But you speed up your tango because it takes two to slay the monster with him.”

So I stay in the game I play with myself whenever I lose the colors,

Whenever I choose myself over somebody I suffocated within the covers.

No one will ever learn the truth, I saved the only copy on my conscience.

The devil has a duplicate key but the road to hell is paved with God’s sins

Masked as good intentions.

-JW

Amateur

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“She looks like a porcelain doll thrown on the floor, then glued together.

Beauty might be timeless but the cracks are visible, pressed deep into the leather.”

Sure, I’ll be by her side when another piece falls out and she’s unable to cope –

But it’s not me she needs. It’s a realization that only she can slow the downwards slope.

Another sour lover or back-alley deal won’t make her understand, no way.

Who am I to judge how she hangs in there by the very last thread, I’m no saint.

All I can do is tell her that no one notices the porcelain shattered inside of her.

“The cracks might even be imagined,” I say. And she plays along.

What an amateur.

-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

A Maniac’s Love Letter

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How come – it’s another day in the fairytale land with so little joy?

You can’t buy the rights to my heart but you can always deploy,

You can always plan so that I don’t escape, yet I don’t really enjoy.

The glory might be the prize but his eyes, they don’t lie,

Chico, they’re my favorite decoy.

I’ve never asked for much when it comes to love, and I swear –

A little sense was all I wanted. Not another mask to wear.

My nerves are built of paper, they burn and they tear.

Not so sure about the others, but if it all breaks loose –

You’re the one I’m gonna spare.

The whites of your eyes look ugly when you roll them, blaring.

You launch them at me like bloodhounds. I think about disappearing

As my last act in this unrequited game. Then I recall us daring

To never leave a fib behind – and it would’ve worked if you weren’t

That passive about baring.

I’m angry. I followed your scent through the mud and got stuck

In this frozen forest with no way out. No matches. I’m out of luck.

But life goes on for you. And it won’t be you, selling tears for a buck,

Desperately waving the white flag and saving for flares to cope

With another day that will suck

In the fairytale land.

How could I dream so grand?

Now my mouth is full of sand

And I’m begging you to take me home

To the places I do understand.

-JW

Your Vows: An Abuser’s Battle Cry

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With my right hand I’ll hold yours so tight it’ll numb,

And my left hook will christen you a cheater and scum.

I’ll gaslight your way and pave it with malice

So your tears will submissively fill my chalice.

Through your laughter I’ll twist two truths in a lie

Until joy feels repellent, like a parasite.

I’ll feast on your principles, bite and unnerve.

But your worst fear – I think I’ll have served as dessert.

Forever I’ll love you and hold you so closely

As chokehold is not forbidden. Well… Mostly.

I’ll carry your struggles and kiss them array,

I won’t notice the moments you push me away,

And I’ll climb and I’ll triumph, and take what is mine –

Why wouldn’t it be? You said pain feels fine.

What a time.

***

I will steal every last bit of mind that you own

and your credit cards, and your telephone.

Every thought and decision I promise to carry,

only to stop when you’re dull and plain, and simply ordinary.

You don’t need to go home when I am your temple,

your start and your end, don’t be sentimental.

Your resentful cries won’t ever be heard.

Blurred. You’ll become so blurred.

***

With these vows I take your life

To be my lawfully wedded butcher knife,

To care for you when I need it for survival.

But when I don’t, you’ll carry me like an

assault riffle.