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
Nothing lonelier on this planet than the idea of you
I abandoned in the wasteland so many moons ago.
Nothing harsher than what I said after thinking through:
“If one of us leaves, the broken one will still be you.”
But you kept swaying your fists at me in full speed,
Crashing porcelain promises, covering all the leads.
My back can take far worse, you can’t make me bleed.
Even with all the force, you can’t outrun my breed.
And you can no longer walk over me like you used to
When your spell was the only curse I would lose to.
Gather your tales and go tell someone else I used you.
There will come a time you will accept
You’re defused, too.
-JW
I hide away in the buzz between your lips,
Touching your fingertips,
Amending all the rips.
You hold my hair back while I burn out bright
But only during the night
While lost in this blight.
The oxygen in my veins sings for you, too,
Perhaps I’m your Waterloo,
Yet – I feel your blues.
I hurt for every bullet you take in self-defense.
One day we’ll make amends,
And meet where the sadness ends.
-JW
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
I pave the pale moonlight with my lightest shoes,
Bruises on my neck as if you needed more proof
That where I come from is a land of temptation
But it has nothing to do with my destination.
The chimneys cry charcoal mascara tears,
Smeared across their cheeks by well-meaning peers.
The dusty air holds the start of another story
I’ll make up while these empty roads bore me.
And the dark parts of my mind sting like darts,
Hard to point them away from the wounded parts.
My joints tell me to look back once more
But I know I’ll get enchanted by all the gore.
I just pave the night, I keep braving the night
As sister moon mirrors rays so I stay in light.
Once the sun sweats over the evergreen trees,
The lures behind my back wail like banshees.
-JW
Sometimes I feel like screaming is not enough,
Their backs turned against us,
Their words vile and rough.
And my heart breaks, it breaks time and again
About their ignorance
Drowned in stale champagne.
I could recollect all the stories one more time
If it meant anything more
Than the sound of chimes.
But the wind is passing through the town today
And I must follow the road
To chase what I crave.
To those staying back, watching me pack up –
Remember my face
When the times got rough.
I burned my feet for them and never gave in.
So call my absence a save,
Don’t call it a sin.
Because no one’s gonna pull me out of the fire,
I have to do it on my own,
Have to walk the spire.
Even if you think it’s not what you’d desire,
The faith will tie us together again
Just like haywire.
-JW
Wish I could cut you off like my own tangled hair,
Wash you out of my blood with one bright flare.
But even the color yellow reminds me of you
As I search the streets for someone new.
My lucky star has long given up on my heart.
You could burst it open with one well-aimed dart.
And I still think your touch was that much different –
Yet all it did was make me weaker and sicker.
I’m not a sticker that would hold as you please,
You owe it to me – let my pride die in peace.
But your head has long branded me as worthless
So I pray to the gods
That I never worshiped.
-JW
And sometimes your love leaves only a faint spark.
Nobody ever follows you into the dark.
Parting the seven seas seems like a distant memory,
An over-dreamt future we once treated like a legacy.
And your boots get more tired than you ever do
When they call you out for feeling black and blue.
What else there is to say than “light me up”,
Burn your life’s belongings in a rusty iron cup.
But let them eat your feelings with killing knives
Until they’re drenched in revenge, fully satisfied.
Because sometimes love burns in crimson heresy –
So beware the wicked selling you your own legacy.
Let that darkness out the chimneys, let it go up,
Throw the sparks in the air until laughter erupts.
-JW
I want to weep flowers on your whitest grave
In the middle of a burnt out winter –
No ashes left to save.
I want to tear my skin open in sharp waves
And sacrifice the shards to those
Hiding in voids and caves.
I want to drop on my knees in an empty field,
Sell the words I promised to save,
Sell all the golden shields.
I want to melt hot candlewax into my tears
And fall headfirst into the flames,
Bursting the atmosphere.
-JW
The little rainclouds are growing into a thunderstorm.
Right under the place we last fell apart
The ground is burning, nice and warm.
No one knows the lengths I’d go to dissolve you again.
No one knows the shame I carry around
In the ink of my pen.
But I’d rebuild silver cities if it meant I could be free.
I’d paint the sky navy blue if it meant
That I could finally sleep.
And my arms would lift mountains just to clear the dust
Which you brought into my view with pain,
Masked as a fiery lust.
Yet – I know well that your footprints cannot be erased.
No matter how hard I swing,
They keep showing up in a new place.
This shame might linger for too many eternities to count.
And even my spite might not be enough
To beat the next goddamn round.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 