Liar, Liar

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Pull a grey bag over my head and make me pray for my life.

You like to play these games,

And I am always on the tip of your knife.

Go on, dear, and release your unforgiving flame over me.

You are a walking scab,

Sinking in your own guilt and oversold novelty.

You tried to prove them that we were alike, you damn liar.

I was looking for water,

But you overshot and pulled me into the fire.

Blow some frosty fog into my eyes again and let me down.

I like to play games too,

Except I can do it with a spine, in a red gown.

So, go ahead and part your unruly lips in faux surprise.

You are a stain on my pride,

And you will have to pay the fairest price.

-JW

When The Scars Turn Into Wounds Again

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You can smell my blood when I bleed on another operating table.

I feel it – how your eyes change shade, how you call me ungrateful.

As I am allowing another man to cut out my ego like it is a tumor,

You break cathedral glass, killing every spirit who spreads the rumors.

When my blood drips down the drain after yet another procedure,

I know that the humming coming from my anesthetic mind feeds you.

You are locked away behind your stained glass and silver crosses,

But you will survive if you cannot count me as one of your losses.

And when the scars turn into wounds again, I will seek you out.

You will waste your voice on my towering insecurities…

Still, I will enjoy the sound.

-JW

Count To Four

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My shoulders ache from carrying your cross.

I wish the devil bit my tongue when I said –

Honey, I need you the most.

The beaming Sahara sun drains me of hope.

We were young and dripping in red,

Now you are passing me the rope.

All my toes are bleeding on the pavement.

The memory seems to fade,

Then it breaks my neck as a statement.

I cannot recognize my own hands anymore.

They are now made of pure led.

Honey, run before I count to four.

-JW

Note #205

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You watched me falling over the edge,

You watched me disappearing into the dark.

My heart hardened as I crossed the ridge.

Don’t reach out your hands, don’t wait for a spark.

I landed on a lonely rugged surface.

I painted my lavender sky with charcoal and soot.

Your aluminum chains gave me hospice,

But don’t sentence me to another year of rot.

-JW

The Winter Was Unavoidable

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The early autumn air showers me with its seamless elegance.

My palms are in your coat pockets

As my words lose their relevance.

The first leaves are turning yellow, just like when we first met.

I wonder if you remember,

I hope that you cannot forget.

Sometimes I look into your eyes and feel this wave of sonder.

You have been holding on,

But we do not get any younger.

And the early autumn air turns into frost on our worst nights.

I promised to carry the cross,

I swore I would lose the fights.

The last leaves are falling down my neck as I lie in wait.

My palms crumble a letter.

We both know it is too late.

-JW

Towards The Ledge

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The fragility of my fists plays with my own immortality.

My spinning head survives on promised immoralities,

And if I keep up the pace, I will persevere, I will push through.

My tongue is made of fire, my will is made of glue.

No, I do not let ignorant men block my paths.

I am seeking a destiny that outruns reason and fact.

If my feet could keep up, they would take me to the place.

But no one sees it, they offer me to leave with grace.

Still, I have no grace, only sharp corners made of iron.

My lips are light-years ahead when it comes to firing.

I shoot everyone who does not keep the final pledge

While not noticing that I am headed towards the ledge.

-JW

Take My Guilt As A Deposit

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There’s always at least one storm brewing in the distance, and I keep it that way.

Trouble seems to find me too easily, so I only wish for just one more day.

But unless I see the dark clouds forming by the horizon, I cannot go on.

The horror is like music to my ears, and I cannot help but sing the song.

They call me a masochist when it comes to proving everyone else wrong.

I see the correlation and I don’t fight it; I’ve nurtured it all summer long.

The shadow creature within my chest keeps feeding on uncertainties.

It never controls me, no, it only gets fed when I do as I please.

When it comes to self-sabotage, I’ve never met anyone quite like me.

I’m the perfect tirage – they taste the wine, then destroy my psyche.

There’s a storm in the distance, there always is, and they say I cause it.

Trouble seeks me out in the darkest of places, takes my guilt as a deposit.

-JW

Forgiveness

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My axis spins around me whenever I drift away in my own thoughts.

The desire for life mixes with the last echoes of death,

And I forgive all the insecurities I once fought.

The sky stays still, it makes everything look easy, almost seamless.

I dream about my childhood, but nothing seems right,

Almost like I have always been Satan’s mistress.

The voices in my head make me scream from the steepest hillside.

All the energy I lose on petty things always comes back,

It burns alive in my chest, it stays inside.

And the pain doubles in size whenever someone dismisses my cries.

My axis obediently bends to the rising ocean waves,

And I forgive all of you who never apologized.

-JW

Growth Spurts

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There must be something so satisfying about the way I hide my hurt.

The crumbs of sanity fall out of me until I become plain and absurd,

But everyone seems to love it, and I wonder whether I should too?

Pleasing all the souls I meet turns out to be my personal Waterloo.

The pressure sticks its filthy nails in my ribs when I am not watching.

My old dreams float by, I no longer consider them worth catching.

There is still a fire behind my pupils, but no one sees that spark.

I do not let anyone notice my dripping eyes in the thickest dark.

Another morning always arrives a moment too soon and it hurts.

The days in the calendar cross themselves off as I wish

That I am all out of growth spurts.

-JW

Whiter Than Doves

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If you just stay close as the train passes our station,

You might save the tears of another mourning nation.

Do not hold back, reach around my wrists and scream,

Yell louder than the thoughts I have,

They are still inescapably mean.

If you turn me away from the wreck as it burns,

I might do the same for you when we take turns.

Do not hesitate when the final push comes to shove,

Breach all the safety protocols,

Paint them whiter than doves.

-JW