Tag: mental health poetry

Honour My Wishes

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Unremarkable, irrelevant, overly talked about but never quite acknowledged.

They let the spiteful paragraphs fly, my nightmares turn into a broken promise.

The tears freeze in the cold December air, they form perfect salty spheres.

Grainy pictures slide by as my consciousness morphs into a guilty plea no one hears.

Honour my wishes, I beg you, honour them,

Don’t listen to the fat they’re chewing.

The lighting is unavoidable, it holds the clouds up

With the strong winds brewing.

Unavoidable, facetious, overrated but never judged fairly enough to fail.

They write down my every mistake, then distribute the list by mail.

The fireworks start, make me lose my sight and my sense of direction.

My ears ring as the thought bubble above my brain dissolves into friction.

Honour my wishes, I beg you, honour them,

Don’t ever let my feet touch the ground.

The destruction is immanent, wait it out

Until a new storm is crowned.

-JW

Self-Destruction

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I thought I could freeze the sadness out of me,

I thought I could caffeinate it out or paint it over with glee.

I wished once I stopped shaking, I’d be free

But no amount of distraction could part the stormy sea.

I left the window open until my skin felt static.

I wished you could guide my senses, fussy and erratic,

And I truly hoped the enormous heavy feeling inside would slip under,

Almost like dying peacefully, almost like beating a thunder.

Just like other memories they’d drift away into a dream,

Yet we’re too gentle to open the void, too gentle to ever grow mean.

So I drift off to sleep in the freezing room one more time.

The night pours saltwater in my aching bruises,

It burns like lime.

-JW

Scheduled

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Two hours forward, eighteen back.

I dance around the schedule,

It’s compromise I lack.

Sixty more clicks on the keyboard.

I’m never done with counting

And putting down a petty sword.

When the dawn arrives, I fidget,

I spin around in my seat.

My moral code’s missing a digit.

And the coffee yawns back at me

When I greet it the next morning,

Hoping to unlock misery’s mystery.

-JW

Reunited

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There are abandoned factory buildings as far as I can see,

There are leaves red as blood on a knife after a killing spree.

There are winds as cold as sin, but warmer than my hands

And there are shackles on my ankles, imported from France.

The city I’ve long forgotten stands before me so tall.

The city that branded me rotten, the place that shrunk me small.

Each wall explodes dust and it colours my skin oddly grey.

Each wall in this city views its visitors as an overdue prey.

I’m shoved into my room, put under a neon microscope lens.

The gates, doors and bridges are shut behind me

And I’m back in Ante.

No memories, no joy and no friends.

-JW

Apathy 101

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I bid my soul to the devil to relieve me of the pressure

And I begged the gods to take me.

They said they don’t deal with the fractured.

I don’t want to be unthankful, I just don’t think I’m alright

Because whenever the sun sets again

I’m crying for the dying night.

I waltz around rooms to walk out the sinister notions.

Churches crumble before my eyes,

I’m stale, envying those in motion.

And the silver lights of the forgotten city call for me…

I’m too weak to hold back the tears.

To everyone I knew – sorry for the apathy.

-JW

Miss Neon Light

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The design is perfect but something is leaning off-centre,

Nobody seems to care, they keep preaching so gentle.

I just want to hold your hand one last time, before it goes.

Many elbows in my back pushing towards the midnight show.

Can I cry on the stage and make everyone oblivious

To how I’m barely hanging in there by my resilience?

Will the weight be lifted or will it never let me exhale?

Is this a nightmare turned into a Hollywood fairytale?

My eyes shoot every scene but I can’t make them focus

As I drift away to neon lit graveyards and locals.

The pattern is flawless but the story still sounds offbeat.

No one seems to notice until you’re the one burning alive

While they’re escaping the heat.

-JW

The Emptiness

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I’m looking for the thing that will make me feel hopeful –

I don’t need a lot, don’t need the social or the noble.

Some thrown out fantasies will keep me grounded

Because nothing satisfies the thirst, it can’t be rounded.

Don’t tell me to pray or to call my ancestors –

I’ve seen enough circus acts where kings play the jesters,

And I don’t get along with anyone who I should prefer

Because spirit lifts higher than blood, mark my words.

“Don’t throw away the guard

For someone you should adore.”

We’re all petty cheaters playing this over and over,

And we don’t get over it because we weren’t offered a shoulder.

Seeing these games rolling doesn’t make me more hopeful

But I’m not looking for locals, for social, for something noble.

I’m seeking that one thing that makes it all make sense

But I’m scared it was always just over the next broken fence,

Something taken away by a coincidence.

-JW

No Light

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Red lollipop between her pale blue cheeks,

She’s not taking any prisoners today.

Second-hand bag and third rate heels.

Her mother’s hips and dad’s ashtray.

She stands tall by the neon but feels so small.

Parents never lifted her up very high.

Never her father’s princess of the ball,

Always the first to get a black eye.

With so much fake light, it’s hard to see stars

But she squints each night to catch one.

When the scenery turns into cold iron bars,

She’s off in another car,

Pretending to chase a mock sun.

-JW

Through My Thunders

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Wish I could encapsulate you standing there in your Rolling Stones t-shirt.

When I look at you in dim mornings, I’m glad I never became a preacher.

But you’re still sacred, even though god and I – we’re done with discussions.

It’s a warzone driven by blackmail and terror because I dared to ask questions.

Wish there was a way to absorb you with my skin, wish touch wasn’t the limit.

There’s no surprise that the way you shine is mistaken for a cheap gimmick.

But you’re still worthy, even if banks have banned my face for the third time.

I walk the road covered in bankruptcies and negotiations of whether you’re a crime.

Wish someone could cure you of the spell that’s making you act this brave.

Whenever the rest is giving up, you come up with ways to nurture and save.

But you’re still dirty, covered in untreated calluses from yesterday’s wonders.

It’s a path designed by the rich or the lunatics to survive through your thunders,

But I’ll pull through. We’ll cross out the days and forget the numbers.

-JW

She Fights Back

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The rumors are true, my angels are laying with the demons this evening.

The good, the bad and the morally corrupt thoughts have lost meaning,

And I’m watching the clouds dance with a storm raising in my rib cage –

Will I stay alive if I choose to wipe the record clean and turn the next page?

Or will I repeat hell’s second circle, mixing trust with an appetite for lust?

The eleventh commandment said “In desperate times, do as you must.”

I’m watching the sky unravel the knots in my stomach by keeping a promise

To always keep me safe, as long as the pain in my chest still feels honest.

Red reflections surround my sun while it’s setting for reasons unknown.

Too soon to give up my ironclad ego, too late to go back to my tombstone.

And I let the rumors in, and I stand in front of my angels and demons tonight.

This is it. All the shame weighing me down can either win or make itself light.

She fights back. The sky is gazing back in affright.

-JW