Tag: poetry daily

The Visitor

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When the attic door creeks, it’s a bit too late to leave.

Tell the crimson in your cheeks to fade out once you bleed.

When the curtains slightly rattle, only then choose your battle.

Enter the last raffle before you drop the selfish prattle.

Sneak behind the dusty closet, just ensure that you close it,

And keep the fear in your pocket, it will be your last deposit.

Grasp the rug with your nails if all these other tricks fail.

Lower your white sails while the others chase their tails.

Never make a confession while looped in a deadly obsession.

You must only use the Hessian if you want to hear the question.

And when the back door creeks, collapse on your own feet.

Tell the nerves in your beak, “We’ve made it another week”.

-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

Beating The Reflection

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It doesn’t get much easier when the mirror is no longer lying

Because you can’t take back the bullets,

Can’t take back the prying.

Once you were trying so hard to beat the broken reflection

But it was never playing your game

Of zero love and affection.

Now you have to thoroughly question – why does it cut you still

Whenever the night puts its claws

On your windowsill?

But as long as you swallow it like a bitter pill each morning,

I don’t think there’s a reason

For senseless mourning.

There’s peace in the mirror image getting boring and plain

And even if it doesn’t get easier,

It takes away the pain.

-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

Burning From Both Ends

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Time only stops for those who outrun it, no wonder this city doesn’t age.

These days are all the yesterdays, and tomorrow’s locked in a silver cage.

We rush down the boulevards, around the parks and through tall buildings,

The concrete in our lungs feels sweeter than betrayals or deserved killings.

But the air keeps changing its flow through the spaces we once worshiped.

All the unsteady boats in our neon ports look more like grey warships.

And the catacombs of our minds leak like candles burning from both ends.

The towers bend and the walls are closing in on those who swore to defend.

“If you have the courage, then I also have the courage to run even faster,”

We try to calm ourselves with these phrases to please the blue masters.

Yet – time only chases those who outrun it, no wonder we carry this rage.

All our yesterdays melt into blurry mist and the time is knocking again,

Asking to turn the next page.

-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

Three Days

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Three days from now a revelation will crush your wings,

And the masks you put on will slide away with the winds.

You told me there’s no way to predict what’s yet to come

But I see your future in broken bottles of rum.

Three days from now a tragedy will settle your temper,

You’ll be hiding in the shadows, telling me to call later.

We once promised to never say goodbye because of fear

But ships sink between uncertainties, it’s crystal clear,

And three days from now the meanest thunder will strike,

I’ll say my prewritten apologies and you’ll call it a night.

The moon will dance just one more waltz in our hair

As you fade into the sunrise like the early summer air.

-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

What Is It You Truly Treasure?

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The vulnerability in my thighs want to escape through the floor,

It is grasping my feet, telling lies, my heaven and hell are torn.

And the perfection you keep assigning to me hurts, it’s so sore,

But you just push through the surfaces and tell me to count to four.

The counter is broken, darling, and so is my steady patience,

There’s nothing left in me that tolerates you, nothing gracious,

And I wonder whether my wishes ever really crossed your mind

Because you only show those puppy eyes when you apologize.

But it’s all about the power and not about being grateful,

It’s about being wickedly sour, about being too distasteful.

You bring the tenderness for everyone’s viewing pleasure.

When I hide away the teeth, that’s when you call me a treasure.

What is it you truly treasure, is it a quality or a measure?

Do my eyes add some relief to this equation or only pressure?

But it’s still a dream of mine to figure your dominance out.

You’ve lived like this for way too long and way too proud.

So I let you run faster, I let you trip over your confidence

‘Til you realize you’re alone and I’m not your last confidant.

-JW