#12 The Hunter

Photo by OVAN from Pexels

I’ve never seen my own reflection while I’m hunting but I’ve got my guesses –

Glistening eyes, wide pupils, messed up hair and fallen branches sticking to my dresses.

The gloomy forest is distracted by the rhythm of my leather boots sneaking up the hill.

I’ve been hunting all night and I’ll shoot you down once you stop being still.

Sinister scents in the breeze, I inhale the evil thoughts rising in my spine.

The next night-traveller I see is going to be pickled in blood and brine.

My hunt is not over until the first civilian sheds blood and moans through stabs,

My hunt is not done until they try to reproduce my cruelty in some highbrow labs.

There’s a rustle in the nearby trail, there’s the sound of someone walking.

I approach the noise and I steady my bones, I let my eyes do the talking.

Finally I see him – 10 yards away, bolting through the pitch-black darkness,

Rolled up sleeves, brand shoes and a lit cigarette – cool yet harmless.

Wherever he goes, I follow, Buck 119 Special residing in my left palm.

I’ve known this forest since I was five, I hear it humming ancient psalms.

He senses my footsteps only when it’s too late, his left lung decompresses.

Still don’t want to see my own reflection while I’m hunting. I’ve got my guesses.

-JW

#7 The Neighbor

Photo by MBARDO from Pexels

Living next door to Joanne was more of a challenge than a well-deserved rest

From the plain, identical streets of this rural area where I’ve built my little nest.

It wasn’t much, a wife, two dogs, a C-class Mercedes and A-class depression

Which was a trustee friend ever since the start of this mind-boggling recession.

With a mortgage and jobs that set fire under our feet with each sudden firing

Our little family slipped into the hands of an unspoken sadness, slow and tiring.

But Joanne was different, 6 inch heels and a concentrated personality to match –

Her loud and never-ending parties didn’t let our sleep escape without a scratch.

We tried to befriend her, we tried to scold her, we tried to execute a revenge.

For the most part it was just us yelling over the music, leaning on the picket fence.

One November day I was home alone brooding and I saw Joanne leaving her house.

The lady left her key under the mat. She didn’t have kids, didn’t have a spouse.

I saw a chance and I took it, snuck over the lawn and unlocked the heavy door.

Whatever her family was doing, I was convinced – they weren’t struggling or poor.

The lavish carpets and drapes, artwork to match the design – it all told a story

Of a rich woman taking over a rural street and claiming it as her territory.

The kitchen was spotless, no dirty dishes from the outlandish parties she held.

There was also a garden with curious plants, the smell so strong I was repelled.

A sudden movement in the kitchen window threw me off guard, was it her?

As I hid behind the plants in the garden, a cat appeared, green eyes and white fur.

Should I feel relieved or should I wait it out? My gaze began to wander.

Joanne’s face was pressed against the window. I fled, there’s no time to ponder.

But there’s no way out, the gate’s locked, so was the little side wicket.

I slowly stepped back into the garden as she walked outside, calm yet wicked.

My body hit a bush right beside the fence and I noticed a tiny, handwritten note.

I realized why we never saw her guests leave. She grinned and reached for the remote.

With the first beats of the rhythm I was in so much pain I curled up like a fetus.

The last thing I saw was a bloody note saying:

“Run if you see this.”

-JW

#1 The Untrusty Friend

Photo by Elina Krima from Pexels

Oh Lizzy, Lizzy, how I proved you dead wrong.

You told me I couldn’t, I wasn’t that strong.

Oh Lizzy, Lizzy, how the tables have turned.

The leaves cover the corner where I was scorned.

Oh dear, don’t you see how it’s played out?

Tell me once more how I smell of sour doubt

And yell once again for help or for mercy.

You’re so frigid they named you Lady Percy.

But let’s not get off the topic, hear me out –

We can’t move forward if you continue to shout.

Oh Lizzy, Lizzy, how you wronged me to death.

You told me I couldn’t while losing your breath.

-JW

Unfinished

Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy from Pexels

Locked doors, narrow cages, chained up ankles.

Shackles ring and the key dangles.

Limited space for breathing, old greyish walls.

You ran as I had to take the fall.

My panic room is faded, it’s plain and sombre.

I’m bound until the next October.

No windows to check the passage of stolen time.

You stole theirs, you stole mine.

But they can’t break me out of our deadly vow.

Fear is only the king to thee who bow.

-JW

Post Scriptum

Photo by Arvid Knutsen from Pexels

Even when we understand each other wishes,

We don’t respect them,

We curse them out as worn-out clichés.

Even when my bright red gaze meets your stare,

We pursue the war,

We cut open the flesh of our love like a pear.

Even when all we got is disgust, deceit or fury,

We clash over each thing,

We call in our worst fear to serve as the jury.

-JW

Two Empty Hearses

Photo by Artem Mizyuk from Pexels

Nobody dared to save my life that silky moonlit night.

No one cared to check for a pulse, no medics in sight.

The body next to mine is bleeding out just as fast as me

And I would do anything to stop the pain

But we’re trapped in this fantasy.

Nobody saw when we ran out of oxygen and body heat,

No one told us to wait or to run, no one told us to bleed.

I hold the love of my life in my weak and bruised arms

And I would to anything to treat the pain

But we promised to do no harm.

Nobody noticed when we painted the sidewalk karmin red.

No one prayed where we trembled, where we sacrificed and bled.

They buried two empty hearses with a hundred made up hymns.

And I would to anything to ease your pain

But my tears can’t heal your broken limbs.

-JW

Down The Rabbit Hole

Photo by Ryanniel Masucol from Pexels

The trajectory of our fall changed right in front of my eyes.

I tried to grasp the passing meadows and fields

But no surprise

We were out of blessing and shields.

The moon lays heavy on our chests and we fear the dark.

Our bags are dragging our souls to the ground,

Leaving a mark,

Letting the predators know we can be found.

The surfaces below are muddled, they’re awfully senseless.

Nothing to soften the inevitable collision.

Our eyes are defenceless.

They take in the blur, confuse it for a vision.

-JW

Arms Of The Sea

Photo by Kei Scampa from Pexels

Dear, come out of the shade, step into the burning limelight.

Don’t linger there promising me paradise, come take a bite.

You’ve been chasing normalcy too long to recall the special,

The extraordinary and the empathetic,

The way we used to revel.

No matter how many throw their eyeballs at us, we persevere,

We rush towards a steep cliff, it’s much closer than it appears.

You’ve been hiding honesty so deep a razor won’t really do

But if you hold on for a moment more

I’ll paint the red sky blue.

Climb with me through the rugged hills, chase me along the way.

Your two feet are struggling to follow me another tiresome day.

The arms of the sea are willing to receive us, aren’t we ready?

Dear, take a step forward, don’t stay still

When the world feels heavy.

-JW

The Others

Photo by Brett Sayles from Pexels

You creep up one me from the hills,

Stalk me through the keyhole,

You steal all of my pills.

I can’t hide that you’re making me ill.

No loopholes in your intentions.

I’m standing perfectly still.

You sneak up on me through drains,

Grab my hands and kiss them

Leaving slimy prints and stains.

You call me your own dame.

But chivalry’s dead so back off.

I’m not the one to tame.

You pull my clothes, you shriek.

The air you breathe smells like sulfur.

My perfume is making you weak.

Don’t you follow, don’t you act meek.

Don’t creep up on me from the hills.

Please don’t waste your wishes

As I’m reaching the peak.

-JW

Looking For Exile

Photo by Perchek Industrie from Pexels

A delay in my response, my brain’s on a break.

I pause all the sound, we’ve done take after take

Of this never-ending story.

And I’m tired to the bone, I can’t fake the laughs.

I’ve written three thousand broken paragraphs

About this love I hold before me.

When I see you, my forth wall turns into dust,

My head buzzes in neon from dawn until dusk –

And I am hardly sorry.

But the cameras are rolling, the crowd is electric.

The tension in your chest evaporates as I whisper

“The others also bore me.”

A delay in my response, my brain’s on a rise.

I pause all the sound. There’s only your eyes

Dictating this never-ending story.

-JW