Tag: poetry daily

These Ghosts

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And once again I pick on myself until I bleed,

Rashes behind my ears let the demons feed.

The red trickling down my back is too warm.

I’m done voiding myself to save others from harm.

Though the heart drums beat dangerously loud

I manage to raise my voice over these crowds.

They turn their heads to catch a brief glimpse

Of this pulled apart soul, covered in safety pins.

For a moment they listen as I raise my hands,

They see my anger trickling into the sand.

With roaring applause their faces turn to dust,

I bow to myself in the mirror, covered in rust.

And maybe you weren’t right when you said

“These ghosts will only cheer over your deathbed.”

-JW

The Second To Last Chapter

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One day the sun will shine for me and not for you.

You’ll beg it to stop like I once begged you

Too many moons ago.

But, honey, we’re on top

And you’re no longer latched onto me.

You’re free fall will be just a flop,

But you’ll still mix crudeness with honesty.

Go ahead and drag me on their sharp, grinding teeth.

Laugh in your palms quietly

As you’re struggling to breathe.

Because it was always you, dear,

Headed for the mighty fall.

Hide your shaky hands as it nears,

Don’t fear their anger, just stand tall.

I might’ve put you in the sun one too many times.

Now that we know there’s no place for you,

I won’t hide away the crimes.

And one morning the light will come for me, not for you.

Today feels like the second to last chapter

Of you ever mouthing

“I’ve got power over you.”

-JW

Dimmed

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The end of this chapter is closer than you would think.

All good things fall apart, all dark things dissolve,

Glimmers kill in a blink.

Light is locked inside of your neck, just let it slip out,

Let it take over the crevices of your house,

Take over the town.

Each shadowy corner is haunted hence I fail to see

What do you have to lose if you free it?

Is it not the fantasy?

Yet – you hold back the rays with your own bullet holes.

You outrun the sun with sawed off guns

To escape getting close.

But the blood cannot block out the truth much longer

So either dim the lights forever

Or die already a goner.

-JW

I Dream Of Gardens

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The glass door to your garden is covered in mist.

I try to break through but I cut my soft fists.

The roses and daffodils breathe in synchrony

While the hives in my mind calmingly sing to me.

Yes, you might even blame my tunnel vision

But I watered your flowers despite the incisions.

The dread in my face screams it is far too late

To talk me out of freezing by your glass gate.

One day they will wonder – why did she stay

Crushed under the pages she used to tear away.

Yet – they will never hear how your garden died

That night we uncovered all the parasites.

There goes another decade my remains rot away

Right by the blossoms turning sickly grey.

The glass door to your garden is covered in mist,

It is nothing but a mirror for those who you miss.

-JW

Things That Don’t Kill

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Choosing not to dissolve completely was easier than deciding to stay,

It took five gallons of pure revenge to get me out of my own way.

In those slow moments before I touched the trigger, I saw your face

And I knew in an instant that racing my own demons

Is not really a chase.

Choosing not to let myself die was much simpler than deciding to live.

I see you’ve worked on your alibis, they’re dark like some oil spills.

Each moment of pain reminds me of you with the force of a bitter pill

So I pack up my pride just to let you speak about things

That don’t really kill.

-JW

The Funeral Of A Narrative

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Happiness earned through freedom is not happiness at all.

They might meet you at your lowest,

Might meet you at the downfall,

But they will watch you pass on the downward spiral

As you fall into the plain grave

Engraved with a word “liar”.

Some will cheer when your hair gets dirty with the moss,

With the leaking rain waters…

They will miss you the most –

At least in the eyes of another passer-by writing a novel.

And those who turned you inside out

Will pass your mother the shovel.

-JW

Half Of My Reflections

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You’re dripping in the spit of people who swore to warn you.

Guess the Armani didn’t work out, the shine didn’t guard you.

Once every three nights you rue the day you ditched my calls –

The envy demons by your bed must stand at least seven feet tall.

I’m doing far better than I should, far worse than you’ll ever know.

Half of my reflections are transparent, half – just for the show.

The monsters breathing on my neck keep getting much closer

Now that you’re gone and our peace treaties are finally over.

But I’m wearing your suits with the glamorous perfume now,

Leaping forward faster than you, waltzing in front of a crowd.

And one day the lonely feeling will dry out your shallow bones

Because one day it’ll be me not picking up the damn phone.

-JW

The Deep End Baptisms

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Push me out of a window straight into an unforgivingly deep water.

Tell me I have to repay the pain,

Have to die for the slaughtered.

Cover my ears and push my head under, drag it down to the sea bed.

Ease the muscles, tie me down with kelps,

Make me feel unneeded.

Braid my hair into the seagrass, silence my lips with the sands of time.

Let the scariest of creatures observe me

While I cry in pantomime.

Let sharp rocks bruise my skin while the moonlight shoots sorry glances,

Ensure I give into this numbing stillness

While everyone else dances.

-JW

Through The Breaking Glass

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The mirror image is screaming through the breaking glass,

Asking whether it can leave me

Back in the past.

And I am leaking blue eyeliner tears in my morning coffee

Over yet another honed thought

Trying to cut me.

Who knows why one would choose to live in this mind

Seemingly made and controlled

By an enemy of mine.

Each move I make is a misstep but you already knew this –

It takes one look to notice

My eyes serve Anubis.

But it takes two to carry the weight in my secret pockets

So I cover the mirror again,

I chain and lock it.

My reflection objects less and less each coming evening.

It must have noticed how fast

Our chest is bleeding.

-JW

Ungracious

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Much to my own dismay,

I’m once again checking in

With what small people are selling today.

Their words do entertain

But I’m a sucker for discomfort

And I let them spread my chest pains.

Whenever they call my bluff,

The the doors lock in place firmly,

They scream that it’s never enough.

I wonder all alone

Whether being the bigger person

Will ever feel like a home.

-JW