My body sinks into your peaceful waters
Until the pale lips no longer need air.
The oxygen I cherished
Disappears in a flair,
And my longing flesh feels perished.
My fingers sink into your wavy hair
As ship horns blare in the distance.
I open my eyes
To your loud persistence,
And I know it has all been lies.
-JW
Don’t deny my hate,
Don’t tell yourself those stories
To save your own fate.
Drop the allegories,
Don’t twist and spin.
The moment you left,
You knew you wouldn’t win.
Go, carry your debt
With your heart of tin.
You sealed your doom,
Wrote it in roses.
Accept your gloom
As the door closes.
-JW
My scalp gets mixed with the greyest gravel.
They laugh and watch as my spine unravels.
I am forbidden from screaming out loud,
But my chest growls louder than a furious crowd.
The tension is high, and I let it simmer.
They cannot drown an innocent sinner.
So, I bow my head, let it touch the sharp rocks,
As they double check every single lock.
No, there is no way out, do not even bother.
Welcome to war, my rotten sisters and brothers.
This is where it all starts, in my bloody palms.
“Be careful about who you keep on your knees,
Be careful about who you harm.”
-JW
The river tried to lick my wounds
But they were too sour.
As the cold water drowned my words,
I counted down the hours.
Stars sighed, hiding on the horizon,
And I burned my apologies.
The sound of the sirens
Broke my painted-on serenity.
I allowed it to become a part of me –
But now the stream is stealing it.
It is sealing shut the honesty,
Opening my flesh wider,
Destroying instead of healing it.
-JW
I looked through the oblivion,
And the rage I found still follows me.
It encapsulates my rotten core,
It drowns me when I fall asleep.
But I can never keep my secrets,
Even with the blades nearby.
Right at the corners of my mind
Muck monsters sing me lullabies.
My vessels punch a hole in me
Right when the darkness reappears.
The oblivion looks back at me,
Inflating all my sharpest fears.
-JW
Every thought dripping out of my bleeding head falls onto the pavement.
It keeps getting lost in translation,
Keeps getting intertwined in noisy brawls for cheap entertainment.
Maybe it is my imagination telling you to listen up,
Even though I know you will ignore it.
So, I will drain your memory in long ruptured cups.
But I will not pass your house without swiping away an inky regret –
There is something about us I still hold dear…
Do not wait me to spill it, do not hold your breath.
You know we made bridges crumble with the acid rivers we cried.
Remember when they used to call us inconvenient?
Even though I could swear to the heavens we tried.
And now I am smearing my thoughts on the sidewalk where we said our farewells.
I know you come here too when they are not looking.
(Do you also daydream you could go back and choose hell?)
Give me a sign and I will make the booking.
As usual, I will never tell.
-JW
You set fire to the hills I nourished back to life,
You poisoned the rivers and sharpened the knives.
In the grand confusion, I gave up all my reason
And watched as the smoke turned darker each season.
The greenery grew paler with each word you spoke.
I knew there was no escape, so I became a ghost –
A fantasy, a tale to tell kids in winter evenings.
You liquidated my story, changed its real meaning.
As I stood in the dust of what was once a garden,
You said those undying words:
“One more chance to ask for a pardon.”
-JW
The tree lines become crooked
As I step in their direction.
I know my crimes have been lurid
But I could use some protection.
The moss hides from my boots,
It crawls away and screams.
My hair entangles with roots
As leaves hide the light beams.
I still carry on, I fight them,
Yet – the thorns gash my ankles.
The bags feel ten pounds lighter,
Still, the air bites and rankles.
The exit must be close,
I can hear the river floating nearby.
Branches hold onto my clothes,
But I push forward
With one last battle cry.
-JW
I write about you as a ghost story from my past
Even when you are a part of my future.
I act nostalgic, hoping this will pass,
But nature can never beat nurture.
When I try to run away, the map changes,
The road spins underneath my feet.
My compass hides between sages,
It misdirects me toward defeat.
And I still write about you in past tenses,
I pretend it is my sentiment talking –
Even when I still wear your rosy lenses,
Even when you catch me sleepwalking.
Yet, I still sneak out every evening.
The tree line twists and blocks my way.
Despite my legs once again bleeding,
I reach for the sunset and scarlet red rays.
Anew I write like you never existed.
The words mourn my disoriented truth.
I wish I could run but my path is twisted,
I know it is always tied to you.
-JW
My head creaks like the stairs of a haunted mansion.
It’s always my fault when I crumble,
It’s my fault if I call out the pretention.
The mind is a revolving door, it turns in twisted circles.
My nausea is building quickly
As the world illuminates like a circus.
And the tension in my neck is crawling up the spine.
Why do I suffer for their naive mistakes
If I can suffer for mine?
I wait patiently but I bet they won’t tell me what’s wrong.
The pain spreads in seven dimensions,
But they beg me to hold on.
My skin turns ghostly, and my eyes roll back into my skull.
One last heartbeat, one more breath,
And all goes dull.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 