And I digress from the compromises I made,
From the lies I confessed.
My eyes surrender to the horizon this time
And the highs reach out to me,
They engulf me in peace –
So I profess.
The chants are left behind as I levitate,
I raise both my hands to the sun,
Hoping it’s not too late.
There is no noise, faith decides itself again.
And my voice leaves
Just like another murmur,
Whirling with the first spring leaves.
-JW
The voices get angrier when the big searchlight in the sky goes out.
They try to take me through the paths that gaslight and sow doubt.
I chase the intrusive thoughts away by turning into a bright red blot,
And it is not necessarily a goal of mine but I am shooting my shot.
I crawl on my knees through the darkened streets without any shame.
The sounds echo in my brain without finding a corner to tame.
But the stars above me look like silver clots in a dark despair sea,
The humming of its silky splashes tail my mind in a minor key –
Until there is nothing else, just another rigid body in the water.
Someone will pull me out with a fishing line, call me their daughter.
The cycle repeats, the runaway in me starts loving the searchlights.
Too often the happiest endings never happen
Because of the darkest nights.
-JW
Do you even remember when I caged up your cast iron heart like a bird of prey,
Breaking each promise I made to myself in the most exhilarating way?
And I buried that cage away, under unidentifiable skulls and pale blue plastic,
I dug it so deep that your clear voice turned into some rusty static.
The lucid sunsets I used to watch from my bed turned uninviting and dull.
All the air around me shrunk in size until the atmosphere was a screaming null.
I placed my palms on the marks in my skin you left without thinking twice…
So I hope you remember this time because I’m setting ablaze our splice.
-JW
The windows of the old pharmacy glow loud in the pitch black night.
I’m at the street corner you left me on, facing my oversights.
The wires over my head get me buzzed like cheap dandelion wine
And a neon cross escapes the church, it slides down the steep decline.
Blue eyes peer out of gates and doorframes, looking for my scent.
The bricks from painted walls tell them, “We don’t know where she went.”
I sneak around parks, hide behind gravestones until the coast is clear,
Until the city whistles louder than wind – so my frightful ears can hear.
The last shadows of the night help me to pave the long way back home,
And the cars hum in unison, erasing the cool fear of ever feeling alone.
As long as I keep waltzing faster, I know I’ll escape all the harm.
This city will wrap me like a blanket, it’ll hold onto me like a charm.
-JW
I know this silly story like a bland Bible verse.
You offer me comfort – the inside of a hearse.
Because the ease you preach is a fine excuse
For worshiping nothing else but your abuse.
And your teeth get sharper every damn morning,
I have to run on empty to chase the four winds.
Your lips keep smiling but they feel loaded
With chemicals that would kill me like a rodent.
But I’m not the rat that you’ve been hunting,
You always seem oblivious to this one thing:
If you want to see your true enemy clearer,
You simply have to take a look in the mirror.
-JW
These walls echo my downfalls but stay deadly silent about the glistening highs.
One could argue I built them for myself, god, don’t re-examine my alibis.
Each morning the dread keeps forgetting itself – and maybe there’s even a chance
For me to escape what I’ve created, lose the lead sprinklers I got for hands.
But I can’t get past the chain link fences, like a spell they push me back inside.
The hellhounds I welcomed in this home know all the escape plans I lazily hide.
The floor spins on its axis, it melts away until there’s nothing for me to land on.
There’s wind on my skin but I can’t see the door, it’s covered by a phantom.
I keep hearing them say – you have to break these abysmal loops on your own,
And, god, I know I’ve built them myself, but would it kill you to pick up the phone?
Even if it’s a beast of my own creation, do I have to break out of its head alone?
Because I swear there’s one unknown lock on my gate,
Cast in envy green stone.
-JW
You questioned whether the city isn’t overwhelming me these days,
I hid little anxieties in the rasp of my voice when whispering the “nays”.
Maybe just by an accident or a loop in the system you truly believed
That on Sunday nights I’m not punching the stewing hot air in my sleep.
You saw me crumble behind the walls, you crumpled up my courage,
And the city was to blame for all my fear lacking proper storage.
The others stared in disbelief and their fury made my nostrils flared,
Somehow I carried my worries home as my silly pride got bared.
And you condemned my choices but still talked about every single one.
This blame game is the worst side-effect of living behind the gun.
My trigger finger shakes when you run marathons with your tongue
But I’ve never wasted a bullet – so you can rumour away your left lung.
-JW
Muted spring mist wraps around my ankles like poisonous snakes.
I’m bathing in vivid daydreams
But it hisses me wide awake.
I trip on my faint honesty, landing straight on the jagged edges
Of all that I couldn’t leave behind
In hotel rooms and on filthy ledges.
My temper drags me down to the bottom but who can blame it?
If you stain the first November snow,
You might as well paint it.
And you might as well drop the acts you’ve been lugging around.
Get rid of the sentiment,
Leave it at the lost and found.
So I stumble towards the sunlight, getting lighter, floating with my sins.
Some keep pointing out the exits,
No, I can’t take the hints.
I know it’s a race against the clock and I’m here running on empty.
But the snakes can only bite if I whisper:
“Please, help me.”
Therefore I seal my lips and move along stealthy.
-JW
There was some grace in our bones back in the golden days,
The knots in our chest didn’t set themselves ablaze like hay.
The guns we carried in our tongues only hurt on Sunday nights
And the batteries in our chests didn’t lose spite or light.
We spun faster but landed gently on fire-proof conclusions,
Nowadays we let the inferno rain as the most merciful solution.
The safety triggers stay buried like old tales for naïve kids,
But still – we almost feel sorry for blowing off these rusty lids.
The sun only shines on us by accident and we somehow thank it,
As if the world itself met us and asked for a safety blanket.
And they keep spitting up poison when preaching grand forgiveness,
It seems that they only speak up to polish their crumbling business.
Hence I put down the iron keys and walk away from the fright,
Some say I’m the only one to risk it – and perhaps they’re even right.
Not that I have time to hear them out, I must step out in the rays.
There’s some grace in the flesh that doesn’t preach the olden ways.
-JW
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 Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 