Tag: series

These Ghosts

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And once again I pick on myself until I bleed,

Rashes behind my ears let the demons feed.

The red trickling down my back is too warm.

I’m done voiding myself to save others from harm.

Though the heart drums beat dangerously loud

I manage to raise my voice over these crowds.

They turn their heads to catch a brief glimpse

Of this pulled apart soul, covered in safety pins.

For a moment they listen as I raise my hands,

They see my anger trickling into the sand.

With roaring applause their faces turn to dust,

I bow to myself in the mirror, covered in rust.

And maybe you weren’t right when you said

“These ghosts will only cheer over your deathbed.”

-JW

The Sixth Year

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You’re smearing empty words all over the newspapers,

Making me curse loud enough to wake the neighbors.

I haven’t seen your face in six years but I know

You still bring the darkness wherever you go.

And once I was foolish enough to follow the trail,

Despising guardian angels for letting me fail.

Now I see you in a car purchased with blood money,

Bought by selling my hopes out, and ain’t that funny?

Blood’s only thicker than water for the lucky ones,

The roots you laid down in me won’t ever see the sun.

And the faux promises you spilled have evaporated,

They’re sleeping in the shadows, dangerously sedated.

It’s alright though, my rage can escape all your abysses,

But you can’t escape the truth or live without your fixes.

So just pray to the gilded gods that you can make it,

Just pretend one more day that if I can fake it,

You can also fake it.

-JW

The Forest Is My Church

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Velvet winds soothe my battle scars in the navy blue moonlight,

My feet are enchanted, they keep moving out of wicked spite.

I kneel, letting my bare skin touch a softly frozen heap of snow.

The forest becomes my church, and I’m seated in the very first row.

Curious creatures peak through the branches to catch a glimpse,

Caterpillars and butterfly wings mix with sharp teeth and fins.

And the ground beneath me shakes with a long awaited relief,

Hugging my wounded parts and covering them gently, leaf upon leaf.

Foxgloves ring their bells thrice, the forest echoes their sound.

They search for my soul in all the boxes marked “lost and found”.

One night they will discover it and I will be pushed into the light

But for now the morning wearily calls us as my sanctuary

Vanishes from sight.

-JW

Losing You

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The trees take me in their arms and let my eyes wash away the sins.

The soft humming of the wind gives a shelter to this poor heart of tin.

And the forest comforts me but not like you, it doesn’t hold me tight,

It hears my curses and heals my aches but it’s not enough

To get me through the night.

The fog raises over the treetops, it covers all the mystical creatures,

The white mist lands on me in pity, sighs quietly like a preacher.

And I still feel a thousand times heavier with each step that I take.

My vain existence was a miniscule droplet but you –

You turned it into a lake.

The path right in front of me melts into shadows and silent alarms.

The pines surround me, they make me surrender the stolen arms.

And I resist to hand over my sharpest knives but they persist

By telling me how my own head’s a poison

And I’ll be missed.

The words are difficult to swallow so I burst into fiery laughter.

“The irony of it all, the one who ends it was also the starter.”

And I run for the edge but then stop just to fall on my knees.

A vision of your face pulls me back to ground

And for a second I feel peace.

-JW

Capitulare

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She’s at the piano, playing her fingertips numb and soul sore.

Tinsel in her hair, glitter on the wrists, her childish mind at war.

The party around her roars like gunfire, she almost disappears,

Blends into the background hiding behind her faceless peers.

She’s on her tenth cigarette even though she quit a long time ago.

Whisky in her system, fuel in her one-track mind ready to blow.

No sadness, no regret, just a ton of anger in a short linen dress –

But don’t lose a finger comforting her, she’ll never confess.

She’s rearranging the thoughts but coming to the same conclusion.

The shivers slide down her spine, hurting like a contusion.

“What’s promised, must be fulfilled,” she silently whimpers

And tries to ignore her own violently shaking fingers.

She’s on the balcony unamused, not even slightly entertained.

The man by the bar represents all her guilt doused in heated shame.

The bottles stacked on expensive tables shatter at her sight.

Her lungs collapse under the relief of crashing into the dolomite.

(The people sigh as he winces:

“She wasn’t in her right mind.”)

-JW

Ultimatus

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Every portrait on the wall has wandering eyes,

Every time I look at the phone you have me paranoid

But I don’t take my own advice.

There’s no privacy in love and no respect in control.

I might act like you’re fooling me greatly

But your lies are barely staying afloat.

So I confess to you all my deadliest urges

And you say you hope I would just get it over with,

Not taming the darkness that emerges.

You keep pushing me further, calling me distasteful.

“If you ever leave, I’ll know I was right,

You were never faithful.”

Words can build character, they can burn down cities,

And after months of hearing you on the loop

My anger turns into pity.

Every photo on the wall has my lifeless eyes,

Every time I look at you, the poison sinks in more

Until all self-preservation is paralyzed.

-JW

Concrete Gods

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When nobody’s around, I sneak out to the forest to dance.

I greet every critter, I hold it in my trembling hands.

The moonlight pours its salvaging light over my arms,

It tingles my spine, releases all the pressure and harm.

So I waltz to the never-ending music of this greenery,

My bare thumbs touching every inch of the scenery.

The lines in my palms blossom like rare spring flowers

But they fade when the sky releases the sunlight showers.

I return to my shelter, re-entering my life more than sleepless,

Pretending to blend in with those walking around heatless.

When there are people around, I hide my muddy feet,

I secretly cross my fingers when admitting complete defeat.

Each afternoon we all bow to the same concrete gods,

Then go home and unwrap our faces from the phony gauze.

When they all go to sleep, I sneak into the forest to scream.

The soundwaves escaping my lips scorch the chartreuse leaves.

-JW

Conjure The Storms

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“You never write about bright things and calm meadows,”

She says laughingly, cocooned in white blankets,

Sipping on Bordeaux.

“You don’t mention honeycombs or the soft skin of your lovers,”

She whispers leaning closer, teasingly smirking

Over the covers.

And she’s not wrong, her sweet breath makes my shoulders tense

But I’d rather trade this all away

Than give my life a tinsel-lens.

She’s always right to call out my sad little trope of a life

Whenever I drown too fast in its glory,

Yet – I’d never be dressed in white.

“Hold back your “sorry”s before you paint my pages all vivid,”

I sigh, anxiously spinning a pen in my cramping fingers.

She feels so livid.

When I gather the courage to look back at her surprised face,

I don’t notice a tear or a wrinkle,

She knows she’s won this case.

“And you’ve been put in this world only to conjure the storms,”

She mumbles to herself, graciously, ferociously.

The bites in her stare come in swarms.

-JW

The Luxury Tiling

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They said if I worked harder, I would chase down the dream,

So I overthrew my best intentions, cut out my own spleen.

Now the man I love only tolerates me for the bright sheen.

The splinters in my cheeks are a part of some grand scheme.

No place for love at this side of the Coney Island type of paradise.

I suck it up, it can all be taken away with one roll of the dice.

Too bad – it is not me holding the winning cards or the casino keys,

And I want a seat in heaven but my place is on my knees.

They said if I ran faster, I would catch up with the rest –

So I braved the mud, rolled over on my back to be the best.

The one I love ignores how everyone calls him “The Blessed”.

He never learned the rules of conduct when it came to playing chess.

No space for errors at this crude side of the town, keep on smiling.

I hold it in until I am home, there I destroy all the luxury tiling.

Too bad, it is not me holding the credit card or the upside down frown,

And I want a seat in heaven but first I must get out of this town.

-JW

Fireworks In A Bottle

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Violent thoughts rolling down the hill like an old tire.

We both know too well –

As long as you’re in this city, it won’t catch fire.

Not for the lack of trying, not for the lack of toluene –

My charcoal palms prove

The combustion was never once obsolete.

Violet treetops and lavender sunsets keep me at bay.

As long as you shush me

The world will wake up to another tranquil day.

The ghost pepper burning inside me painfully swells

But we both know it –

The flames won’t hurt until the passion sells.

-JW