Tag: rut

Sick Leave

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Killing my every spare moment with buzz and with noise.

Made it thus far without booze spilling on my records of choice.

Ears bleeding from sound attacking my senses like thirsty wolves

But I’ve only made it this far through thoughts that dissolve.

Spreading my hopes on bread without guilt to eat them all up.

My last week’s happy face on the streets was a cover up

And my covers are tinted with deep blue undertones, if you noticed.

When death and I finally waltz, I might even get a bonus.

They call my eyes playful but painfully so, if that’s a hint.

The chaos behind those greyish stones could use a lighter tint.

A true artist never unveils tricks or techniques but I oppose –

When graveyard goes for the flash button, I strike a pose.

With each coming second the buzz will become a craftier thieve.

You’ll ignore these lines while I apply for another sick leave.

-JW

Ignoring The Doom

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Stuck in a bit of a hollow place lately,

Stuck in a loop, deluding everyone sedately.

Trying to fit accordingly on every surface.

The bending and breaking is making me nervous.

Trust me, I’m trying, I’m reaching for the sun.

Trust me when I say – my hand is a loaded gun.

Let me climb the barriers on my own,

Let me use resilience that I have loaned…

Don’t wait up when the floor creaks in my room.

Don’t worry about it, ignore the impending doom.

I promise to keep on stretching for the light,

I promise to crawl, even if I get scared of the height.

Keep my silence as a memory of the days I screamed

I guess my need to become timeless wasn’t what it seemed.

-JW

Deo

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Tie me down tightly the next time I try to claw my irises out.

The lights are acidic, music is pale and I don’t make myself proud.

Lie to me before you let the rope touch my infected neck –

And remember the hand they’ve given me came from a defective deck.

Don’t trust my cool when I approach the window so slowly.

Dearest, please, hold me back roughly, like you owe me,

Chain my feet to a block of static, mellow memories.

After all, we built this house from second-hand gossip and prophecies.

It’s time to let it slide through the fingers, let it dissolve.

And maybe, just maybe, saying goodbye will let it evolve.

So wrap the leash tighter but don’t let me look away.

The walls we built have to crumble right before my eyes

To make sure I obey.

-JW

The Revelation

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It feels irrelevant to feel the rut I’m feeling, but it’s still true –

My mind is rumbling, I can’t hear the chorus through the blues.

The fences are getting higher and I don’t want to manage,

And every day I don’t, my brain gets twice the damage.

I didn’t know you were listening to my story all along.

To you it might seem that I’m visionless or not that strong.

To you the picture has been painted through a distorting mirror.

But I don’t care –

Come, take in my suffering from the cuts, almost like a killer.

Then he whispers:

“Step away from the catastrophe for a second, let me ground it.

I know that the truths you’ve been hearing sound astounding,

And somehow you keep on beating the current as if it’s your cure –

But there comes a time to realize that you will not be judged

By the pain you endure.”

-JW

To Stop The Duel

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How did it go from me never settling for anything less

To me being the angriest person you’d meet on a workday

Because of the stress?

How did my pain become a part of someone’s reality

When the only truth I sought was the ability to stop ignoring my alarm

Because of my fragility?

How did my nightmares about failing

Involve into daydreams of bailing

On the life I know – like I didn’t build it, at all,

As if I was someone’s undeserving thrall.

I know it takes two to tango but why can’t I stop the duel

When my feet are on fire, yet numb,

But they keep adding the fuel?

I know it’s my desperation speaking when I have no time to eat

As they munch away on my future and money

But try to keep it discrete.

I know I should’ve pushed harder,

Knowing this tale is a two-parter

And I didn’t have anything to lose back then.

But it still felt like hell when the clock struck ten.

How do we pretend and keep avoiding the questioning?

It is much easier, of course, to ignore the reckoning,

But is it promising?

Have we become the jurors and prisons for our own sentencing?

The background noises are quickening, they might become deafening.

Call me when the standards are settling.

-JW