Tag: poetry

It Burns

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It burns within me like hot coals before the first autumn rain.

They evacuate the fields and release all the foals,

They block half of the lanes.

The heat chars my insides with the fury of molten titanium,

And everything I’ve ever known splits, it divides,

Fracturing this entire millennium.

The time bursts wide open, overcooking my ribcage to a crisp.

They call the screams a bad omen

And hide themselves in the October mist.

But the boiling point keeps nearing as my lids leak dusty lava.

It’s what they’ve been fearing –

My glowing eyes starting another melodrama.

A single ruby red beam escapes my chest, I ignite the grey sky.

And as the fog settles onto them like a net,

They find their own anger tongue tied.

-JW

Two Swords

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You don’t have any power over me.

The illusion I painted before your very own eyes –

Was it a faux promise, was it a fantasy?

But you gave in to the lies masked as courtesy.

And you kept viciously firing away with the words,

Grinning through jealousy as I slumped over.

But, honey, my tongue has two swords,

One for re-opening my own wounds,

One for stabbing people like you in the back

Until all strings are cut and they’re out of tune.

But don’t paint it all black,

I tried before I gave the last loyalty away.

Now all that’s left for you is to run

Before my vengeful self takes you for a prey.

-JW

Anxious

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You’re sitting on my collarbone,

Dangling your legs over the edge.

Your two little swords pushed into my skin

So you don’t fall off the ledge.

My heart keeps racing for miles

When you electrocute my chest.

My ankles shake and palms tremble.

No rest for the anxious, no rest.

And the brain gets lost in the fog

As you blow sapphire smoke in my skull.

You haven’t left my side for years,

You’ve painted me fragile and dull.

Tell me, when was the last time I slept

Without your tight supervision?

I wonder if you ever get tired

Of turning my body into a prison.

-JW

The House Needs To Feed

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Three days in a row I’ve seen you hiding by the forest line.

The rain’s soaking your dirty hair but I let you take your time.

Your face is vaguely familiar yet the name escapes my mind,

And uneasy feeling sits in my stomach like rocks,

It twists and it grinds.

So I stay up all night watching your movements from the attic.

You can’t find a way in and I smile as your behaviour turns erratic.

But then you notice the basement window, it’s slightly open.

You dive right through with a grin on your lips,

Taking the trap for a token.

The red floor creeks gently under your worn out sneakers.

You must’ve woken her up, she’s quite a light sleeper.

So I wonder – what did you notice first, was it the smell?

Was it the glowing eye or another dead creeper?

It’s hard to guess from your yells…

Go ahead and keep that secret all to yourself.

Three days in a row I’ve heard you screaming for help.

The rain’s leaking into the basement, mixing with gore.

This house feeds on souls,

I hope you don’t mind that I volunteered yours.

-JW

Last Day In Hell

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Hopefully, you’re aware of why I’m writing this down –

You must’ve heard by now why I left the town

And sold your paper crown for pennies to your rivals.

I’ve almost left a dozen times but this time it feels final.

Take your plastic jewellery, don’t engrave it with “sorry”s.

You asked me to take this to my grave

But I tattooed all the ghost stories on my sleeve.

My skin burns in red neon when I sleep.

I wonder if you noticed as I burned out for you on display.

Now I can only pray that you remember this day

As I shoot by the state lines without saying farewell.

Six months ago I almost buried my pen

But this is my last day in hell.

Take care of those who outlive my patience.

Hope they find the spite to outrun your basements

And the tinted shadows you cast that can’t be washed away.

It’s your dark abyss now,

Don’t get too high on the power you dismay.

-JW

The Flowers

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I plant dead flowers, they’re the only friends I keep.

Plastic roses laugh at me while I struggle to sleep.

My nightmares revolve around the land you created,

Completely controlled, with all my demons animated.

There’s no distinction between your time and mine,

All the minutes spent worrying, reading between the lines.

A car almost ran me over on my way back to you.

The only thing I thought of was your grin turning blue

As the news broke of me being another statistic.

You probably would solve it well, approach it all holistic,

And you would’ve replaced me a week after the tragedy.

The fact that you had to wait at all was a travesty.

I know I should hate the thought of my profitability

But my own head is lacking the basic civility –

So I bend for every wind or fire you put me through.

The reality calls me but you hide all its clues.

And I water dead flowers, that’s all I’ve ever known.

You sought out my vulnerabilities and took out a loan

Against the life that I’ve lead, everything that it’s worth –

Promised to pay the highest bidder, sold me to The North.

Despite my best judgement, I grew awfully meek.

You confused my tiredness with a character that’s weak.

One day I’ll sign off with a blood promise to never tell.

One day you’ll sign off on my last day in hell.

-JW

The Silver Glow

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Let it go to voicemail, just let me go home.

I will break at the next ring of a telephone.

But you’re keen to get it your way, I must admit –

Somehow your gaze feels worse than a hit.

The walls stare back and their silence reminds me

How I’m nothing without your claws behind me.

The rain plays with the backbone I once owned,

I lost it to your hexes, intoned and cold.

Now it sits by the window you refuse to unlock

And the phones keep ringing me out of luck.

“Am I trapped? Or am I just overreacting?”

My voice sounds brave but it’s clearly cracking.

And my judgement may be lacking, that I know,

But the only light I see is the silver glow

Coming from another screen that you gave me

As a weak attempt to finally “save me”.

But your hospitality still tastes hostile,

A wicked circle of control, then a white lie.

So let it go to voicemail, just let me go home.

I will break the next ringing telephone.

-JW

Stick To The Agreement

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Drink up on my silence while I still honor that treaty.

My words will gnaw at you

Until they will eat me.

But I will drag you down too

By your silky lapel,

Repeating simple phrases and lies you used to tell.

My sleep schedule remains in shackles and ruins

As I walk the streets

So inevitably human.

But you are unfazed by the beds you leave empty –

I wonder if it ever gets cold

In your land of plenty.

The curiosity is tickling my tongue with feathers,

And it gets way too chatty

In this awful weather.

You know what happens next in stories like ours,

You time your apologies

But miss by hours.

Once I part my lips, the temperature will plummet.

Maybe you will be home

Or at the highest of summits.

Perhaps you will call me to sit at your table

As I spill all the words

With speakers enabled.

But until that moment

Stay in your seat.

I will not be your atonement

If you simply stick to what was agreed.

-JW

The Powerless And Hopeless

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Today I used the money you gave me as a coaster,

Spilling black coffee over our history

As you pretend to toast her

While adding drugs to her champagne.

I can’t help but wonder –

Do you really not feel any of the pain?

We give you gilded towers

But only our wounds feel like true gains.

She cheers to you and loses the power,

Hands tied, no more going against the grain.

The chanting grows louder,

And by the witching hour

You drown her last hope down your hungry drain.

-JW

The Blind Spot

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My migraines help me kill the time

While you squeeze acid in my eyes mixed with sparkling lime.

I can’t stop spinning, crawling on the ceiling,

Looking for a single reason to not lose all meaning

In between the lines you keep feeding me.

(Or is it “lies”?)

Why do you cry when you’re defeating me?

And then you demand that I apologize,

Sometimes call for a sacrifice,

Just to ensure that you don’t get furious –

Because we both love a good fuss

But somehow it’s always me being scolded

About your walls not being golden.

“Honey, pull yourself up by the bootstraps and fight,

The ticket holders really don’t have all night.”

So you roll your eyes as I beg for a chance

To ever meet your highest demands.

You know that I’m worthy,

That’s why you make sure I feel worthless,

You tell me the world will be sturdy

Even if you replace me with a carbon copy

That complains a little less.

But I stay loyal

As I write down your crimes.

No alibis will ever soften the jury’s face during the trials.

You know what you did,

Starting from quiet decapitations you hid,

Ending with loud scandals they threw in the bin.

Because we let migraines kill our time –

But you’re no longer mine, it’s the end of the line.

I hope the sour truth will keep burning your eyes

Until my last memory of your tough love dies.

-JW