Tag: Other

The Hell’s Guardian

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The first sudden shock to the muscle releases the loudest scream,

From there on out it’s a joy ride within a red beam.

Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the pleas and begs for pardon,

You’ll notice the little things and your heart will harden.

Once the sweat drips on the strings, they’ll play like an orchestra

But don’t lick the cords, you’ll become the first jester.

It’s not an interrogation – just a discussion about hereafter

So hold back their cries, hold back the roaring laughter.

Focus on your duty, don’t snoop around closed gates at night.

If the devil’s entourage walks the halls, get out of sight.

Don’t look them in the eye when they pass by the tinted windows,

Stay in your post and only go where the wind blows.

Sully the words you swore by in the uniform you once cherished.

If we’re honest today, you’ve long been perished.

So go on, let yourself get high on the lingering scent of fear,

Let their screams be the last song you ever hear.

-JW

The Steely Sky

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There’s this moment each evening when the town goes monochrome –

Nothing but an alien shade spilled over the surfaces, nothing but chrome.

The clouds are grey, the streets are grey and the buildings are grey.

The sun says its goodbyes to another vibrant whirlwind of a day.

And whenever the grey wraps the town in the silky blanket of the night,

I see your house lighting up like a tower of the most gleeful light.

Right over the hill you turn on every single bulb in your possession

To fight the numbness away, and maybe even to teach it a lesson.

I’m not that sure it’s truly you, standing there with your flesh and bones,

But I haven’t seen your face in a year so I hope you’re also this alone.

Once the first drops of ink get added to the steely sky, I close my blinds.

There’s this moment each evening when I wish

That ten wrongs could make a single right.

-JW

The Fangs Of Spring

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The first breath of spring pushes its fangs into the city.

It’s not a question of why, it’s a question of when it’ll hit me

That not a single blood cell of mine remembers your venom

And the gashes in my chest no longer open if you tear them.

Perhaps time heals all but pure spite cures in leaps –

No wonder tears dry faster when the rosy fog leaves.

I keep driving past the places where you made me overflow

And now they smell like gasoline, the warning sign of a foe.

It might seem foolish but I’ve been walking by your street

Hoping that I get a chance to bring you the desert heat

Just like you did, shamelessly thinking you’re being witty…

The first breath of spring pushes its fangs into the city.

-JW

Moving On

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Wasn’t I moving on before I saw you in the midnight train?

Wasn’t I looking out for myself?

Why am I here, mixing tears with the rain?

In times like these I question whether this cycle will end

With me still being able to fix it

And call my broken body a friend.

Or perhaps I’ll strangle myself with sentences never spoken

Until I’m broken and you’re broken,

We’ll wear it as a token.

But together we’re much number than when we’re alone

So I let the train pass to save my bones.

I don’t pick up the phone.

-JW

The Silence Roams The Hills

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Time flies when you don’t choke on words never said.

But we still do it – choose to make our own death beds

By silencing the little truths that grow into avalanches,

Ready to break down fences and snap dry branches.

And the silence roams the hills, it gains speed and weight.

It echoes through trenches like a loose bullet

You caught way too late.

-JW

The Hippodrome

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In between the most private of moments the camera flashes bring me home.

The curtains I’ve wrapped around myself don’t hide me from the Hippodrome.

But these horses keep dragging the time faster and faster down the streets,

And I’m spinning in frantic circles to find the escape or just an empty seat.

Lights blur my vision as they’re leaking neon on my darkest dancing shoes.

I can’t run away now, the footsteps I leave are sparkling in pinks and blues.

If I survive one more night, then maybe their greed will lose its sizzling heat,

Or maybe it’ll scorch my scars until I bleed dry without missing a beat.

The choice lies down on my neck as all the flashes melt into a single one,

A pulsating array of stars emerge from the horizon, the prize yet to be won.

Between the most public of shunnings, the raindrops bring me back to life.

I let the curtains drop and blind the crowds that once kicked me down

And still took a bite.

-JW

The Nightmare Warriors

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Sing me to sleep, gift me a wicked nightmare,

Let them blaze guns but don’t allow me to fight scared.

Negotiate the best terms for my imminent release

And sneak crown jewels past guards holding the keys.

Vouch for my innocence in the highest of courts,

Block the gates, close the streets, sink all the ports.

But don’t ever wake me, wait ‘til I have my say.

The thrill will only last a night,

It will only linger for a day.

-JW

The Birds

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And the birds drop dead on the ground before my very eyes.

It’s nothing but a sight of someone sacred getting patronized.

Isn’t it nice to just watch yourself outlive them once more?

Yet – I’m scared I can’t carry on without my wings getting sore.

So the winds keep rushing us towards an eternity tonight.

The air is hushing us but we’re drifting like loose kites.

And I know the time and place to drop is nearing way too fast.

It’s nothing but a fleeting memory of world not meant to last.

-JW

The Monsters

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The monsters under my bed keep craving pure flesh,

The nails on their feet scratch harder when I try to start fresh.

But there isn’t a real bone in my broken body

So I never scream when they aim to cut or disarm me.

The monsters under my bed are stabbing my back,

Whenever I switch on the screen, they paint the room black.

And I know their feeding, they’re growing stronger each time

I let them pull me into the burning limelight.

-JW

When The Winter’s Over

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The spring is back in town

And my crowns are no longer made of wires.

Blossoms and moss grow on blood, crusty brown,

Spreading vaporized desires.

The leaves tickle slightly

As dazzling sweat trickle down the back.

You promised not to take my cries lightly

But the spring stole your tact.

My senses get attacked

With the vivid smell of primrose and tulip.

The chains around my wrists, once deep black,

Now clear and lucid.

The sun climbs in fast leaps

Over the tiresomely arrogant brick towers.

Its white light is a sweet, sweet release,

And I collapse in flowers.

-JW