Tag: poetry series

The Story, Retold

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Paint my face greyer than October mists

With the lightning bolts you strike

From your angry fists.

Dance around the subject when they ask

Whether exiling me

Was an easy task.

But never submit an answer worth their wait

So I keep being the last thing

On your plate.

A scandal or two won’t break a “good man”.

But if I play the cards wrong

They won’t understand.

And they’ll wonder where I went off the rails

When I accepted freedom

With all that it entails.

The next time you see me, call me an enemy.

Let my grey face fade

From your memory.

We’ll just play two strangers for everlong

As their thunderstorms

Paint the story all wrong.

Bleach

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I hold onto the cold banister

As they beg you:

“Please banish her.”

But you aren’t my punisher

So stand down.

Stay behind the barrier.

I know how to self-sabotage,

Say words like:

“We are meant to last.”

Then cut open the mirage,

Detach the wings

From the fuselage.

I contemplate my realities

As you wait it out

While the crowd isn’t pleased.

Fight again or appease?

The latter option

Feels like a sweet release

So I let go of what is out of reach.

Release the banister,

Let you win the siege.

Never trust those who preach

That life’s better

When soaked in bleach.

-JW

Don’t Take Me With You

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You swore to gods that your patience for me was long gone

When you cut me off like a deceitful con.

Even though you barely kept your head above the water

You never tried becoming a better father.

You stole time and trust from anyone who mattered

But my alliances were never scattered.

The night we last met your intentions were see-through.

I prayed – please don’t take me with you.

You never drove off that bridge in your selfish sadness.

Yet, you showed me the purest form of madness.

It’s been 6 years since I last heard your excuses,

But the pain you brought still feeds my muses.

And maybe, just maybe, you took me with you after all?

Because the rage I breathe feels like an endless fall.

-JW

Whisper The Name

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My tongue gets sour and bitter, it dreams up revenge fantasies.

A while back I hired it a babysitter

But it still screams out violent prophecies.

They try to bite me with their fangs, strip me of the power,

Acting as the god almighty

While I recklessly destroy and devour.

And I know they refuse to be scared of my baby pink guts.

But my blade, it makes moves.

It doesn’t stop until someone else rots.

My teeth get blacker with each hex that I spew at their swords.

But they’ve brought their hijackers,

They take over my thoughts and words.

Although I know it’s too late, my tongue sharpens its knives

Ready to unleash all the hate

Right back at their crooked hives.

So the bitterness slips away, I trip on its tails while it passes,

And I’m fit to fight again

Until they whisper my name in history classes.

-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

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 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

Glass Limousine

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I see my refection in store windows and taxis,

It would be a lie if I told you it’s not taxing

And it would be a travesty to tell you I can sleep

When I’ve spent years driving this glass limousine.

Everyone’s seen the uphill battles in real time,

Cheered for the downfalls, paid for some new grime.

The climb is what really bores them to death

So they clap way too loud, and I take it as a threat.

But while they’re observing, I thrive in the blind spots,

I build a life out of fumes in case this car stops.

One day they’ll run out of gasoline to feed it,

One day it’ll devour all these low-hanging people.

Until then I keep driving, hiding weapons under covers,

And I hold my hope close like a hopeless lover.

I still see my reflection in chic silverware and screens

But it would be a lie if I told you that nowadays

I don’t also see it raindrops and trees.

-JW

Osmium Head

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The tiredness pulls my lead limbs towards the ground,

Like a form of gravity that’s unspoken, yet unfound.

The strings that tie my will together weaken each day

And I hope they don’t snap but it’s too late to pray.

I chase down the healers, I seek out the warlocks –

They treat my burning tears like a poison hemlock.

I look for old scrolls in the most secret of folders,

The coldness in my spine slides up to the shoulders

As I turn the last page and there’s nothing to save me.

My osmium head keeps sinking faster in this dark sea.

The mirror image trembles, each night it grows fainter,

My body is the canvas and the heaviness – its painter.

-JW