self doubt – The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright

The Circle Game

21. Apr, 202021. Apr, 2020 jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment

Oh, be careful reflecting your self-worth on me.

One second you’re editing me, the next you’re neck-deep, drowning in hate for yourself,

You no longer have the sense or the means to not be self-destructive,

and visibly

There’s something that needs to be reattached to your ego, but you’re sitting on your ice shelf.

Cold. Eager to watch me cramping in frozen waters.

I won’t though. You’re riding the high horse,

Sipping on insecurities which only makes it sadder,

Pretending I had it bad, but you’ve got it worse.

Be careful reflecting your self-worth on me.

I don’t appear in mirrored reflections of superficial surfaces,

and visibly

You’re upset I didn’t wait for you while the selfishness passes.

But I don’t write my poems for you. I write them for the masses.

-JW

I hate this poem…

5. Mar, 2020 jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment

I’m gonna love you from a distance. I’m gonna want you from a far.

I keep telling myself lies – that I’m good when we’re apart.

Sitting here, drinking, and hoping that a car ran me over today, twice.

For looking into those deadly nightshade eyes of yours I have to pay the price.

Have loved you for a week again, will hate you for the months to come –

But clearly that’s alright. I’d chug a pint of poison if it tastes like bubble gum.

Never been the quiet type, observer or admirer. I fucking hate this poem too.

When and why did I go blind? Why do I wonder tirelessly, without a clue?

I haven’t lost a part of me in you, yet what scares me the most here

Is that I’ve found something new, and that’s simply not fair.

None of my friends dare to ask what I’m truly feeling because they know

Once the truth’s out I’ll chase you like Wall Street guys from 80-s chased some blow.

I’m scared of ruining everything for you, but is there anything left to spoil?

When you speak of anyone else, the temperature raises as my blood begins to boil.

I’ve gone too low, I’ll admit it. My skull seems to be damaged with a crowbar.

Yet… I’m gonna love you from a distance. I’m gonna want you from a far.

-JW

By the Arête

9. Feb, 2020 jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment

It’s been eighteen months since I’ve touched a scale to deal with the itch.

For full seventeen months I haven’t been called a righteous bitch.

Weighing myself is still a daily task for me though, don’t be blinded,

The things I get done feel like nothing and I start getting winded.

The constant rush to be leading is leaving me shattered in the evenings

But now the broken mirrors won’t really reflect what I’m eating.

There are pros and cons for having a hunger, and that’s a fact.

No matter the hunger, at the end of the day you feel like you’ve signed a pact.

Some mornings my life’s hanging on a string by the arête

As they’re stealing my ideas, copyrighted with blood on the concrete.

Some nightmares wake me quicker than seeing my bile in the drain

And I keep reminding myself that the self-pity has died in vain.

I have changed. It is not the same.

***

It’s been one billion little lies later. My brain has gone quiet.

I’m not wanting to diet but it’s not a riot.

I’m ready to pave a way, striate.

-JW

Every 5 minutes

5. Feb, 2020 jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment

Every 5 minutes I save your inanity with my insanity in the making,

Every other morning I hate your profanities – as they are backbreaking.

Your dull words with their made up sanctity force my lips to become abrasive.

Should I let you go or keep fissioning while I pretend to embrace it?

What comes next is never a given with you, and it frightens me fiercely.

The next time your bright eyes darken, should I count your shots and wait out the first three?

Should I lay low or shoot back, or fall deeper?

I am not the one to admit the victory of the reaper.

But my personal little deaths always looked like your face.

It’s at the finish line of every track, of every race.

Could have sworn – no one ever told me about the truths you face

Looking for someone to chase at your own pace.

Even 5 years ago I was ready to conquer my two star town for the title,

Even people I barely knew viewed my mind as a funny farm or a spital.

My insides were filled with flammable liquids but I got used to drowning.

Should I spit out the flames now or should I try putting them out

with all the drinks that I’m downing?

You would know the answer to that, love, wouldn’t you?

How come the worst of my demons is the one that is true?

I am not the one to deny that my pride is a fallen virtue.

So why does every time you step on it feel less like a torture

And more like a comically tragic ending to the heroine

Whose emancipation narrators rooted for but they could not fit it in?

***

Every 5 minutes I save my insanity with you mortality in the making,

Every other morning I still love your lethalities – as they are breathtaking.

-JW

The Coast is Not Clear

2. Feb, 2020 jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment

If you took a peek inside my words, if you glanced through the mendacious keyhole,

You’d see the truest parts of me and how they each play a role –

My own heart can’t be trusted as it’s often acting as the mole.

I’m just a broken person, your narrative won’t ever make me whole.

“Believe me” can be harsh words to yell when you’re cornered,

Especially, when there’s not a single supporter in your corner.

It’s hard to feel fulfilled surviving on some empty calories,

Depending on a lust for blood coming from all the crowds you please. From your enemies.

Tired of walking the line but you can’t step away from it either.

“All your exits are blocked, honey, go and take a breather.

It’s going to be just fine. Now, go get in the freezer.

It will help with the burning fever of becoming a leader.”

***

Fingers are trembling, touching the broken screen –

Can you ever feel truly seen? Or do you only get your spleen

And a vivid red spite to go with it, waiting in line for the guillotine?

I can’t believe I didn’t end this when I was fifteen.

On a more hopeless note, it’s been two days since I last took a shower.

Been working so hard on proving my worth to some superior power

Which I’ve never believed in or prayed to in the first place, but what’s the use

Of being an atheist if you’ve always preferred some systematic abuse.

Called myself “worthy” on the bus ride home, but that’s simply a fraction

Of the fights I have to win with my demons. This is the first wave, the first contraction.

What we need is a true call to action, no abstraction or extractions

Away from the truth – with its burned edges and imperfect boundaries.

We will not sleep on this – or do what we’re told. I beg you, please.

At this time there’s so much pain we have to help ease,

So many smoking guns we must reach in order to seize.

Life with a price on your head was never for the influential –

It’s meant for the power hungry on the barricades, the so called “nonessential”.

Climb faster and aim for the higher ground, avoid the pestilential.

One day more to fight the confidential. To answer the existential.

To fasten our credentials.

To get the attention

Or pack the essentials

And leave – like we were never really here,

But I really hope they hear.

My dear, they will not always adhere.

One day they will learn to confront,

Even when the coast is not clear.

-JW

Love Witch: Vol 2

26. Jan, 2020 jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment

A distant dawn is spilling light over horizons,

But I’m only waking up when I hear the sound of sirens.

There’s cheap vanilla perfume lingering between our bodies,

Pretending it is sane to look for love in hotel lobbies.

The curtains on our stage remain closed. We’re not ready to ask questions

As you feel deep regret and I’m still fighting my aggressions.

We’re done. After tonight we’re done. The moment sun rises

We’re as good as two strangers who have been through a crisis.

The morning sun hits my face, and I’m ready to flee this absurd scene.

Your eyes meet mine. You also know this has turned obscene.

***

I wonder – if you feel nothing for long enough do you

just hate everybody? Or are you just too tired?

Looking for love seems like too much effort

to put in someone who will never be desired.

But then I meet these people who I shouldn’t touch

as it’s wrong to steal something that’s not yours,

and I sink my teeth in them and I make them blush

so red… But is it my fault they put themselves on all fours?

It is he who adores, it is he who ignores

The warning signs, redder than his cheeks.

But who cares about my heartless Siren’s screak?

I’m the one who made him weak, for weeks,

just like a modern day love witch, so to speak.

Hope they burn me during dawn, as they should.

Hope I reborn as someone from Hollywood

that makes their livelihood by being no good.

-JW