Tag: series

There’s Music In My Madness

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Seven scratches on my knees from the rusted barbed wire.

I chase my shadow down the rabbit hole, it’s dark and dire.

In the office building across the street they don’t let Barb retire.

I smile and my bright grin hides the more disturbing desires.

My boots softly lick the pavement as I quietly fantasize

About the good old days when city crowds weren’t polarized.

They’re kicking Bryan out of his home just to catalyse,

Just to prove that even the innocent can be penalized.

All the righteousness in my fists can’t fix the casualties.

Their records are clean because they remixed the guilty pleas.

I hear all the worst things in life come to you in threes

So let’s hope they enjoy the waltz I’ll play

On the blackest of keys.

-JW

The Spin

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The sentences you murmur get entangled with mine, it’s funny,

Almost a coincidence, almost like you’re into this for the new money.

You feel intuitive, just like the paintbrushes between my fingers.

The word on the street is you can’t manage your anger, it lingers.

You grip the wheel until your knuckles turn white when I tease you.

You’re not into people, you’re only into things that please you.

Why am I watching your brain fall apart, why am I even here?

No willingness to fix the issues. No pretend, no love and no care.

But somehow your hold around the folds of my brain is stronger,

It’s puncturing my fragile strings, it’s making the dawns longer.

When the evening rushes towards me, all the notions dissolve.

I let your words speak for themselves

And they never evolve.

-JW

All The Dead Muses

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Paint dripping into the grass, paint dripping down the walls.

It’s a scene, it’s a vice you can’t buy in the mall.

The room was all white and we turned it vivid blue –

It’s a parody of the invasion of Normandy, it’s our Waterloo.

The charcoal in my palm tastes sullied and bitter,

Feels as if the story of me was never written.

Colours poured down my spine, colours all over the stage.

With each brush I rip apart, I satisfy my rage.

The ink between your fingers is stickier than nectar

And I bite down with force like Hannibal Lecter.

But I can’t hurt your skin or your skull, or your veins –

Gonna be a cold day in hell when I burn your remains.

My palms draw your lines and lumps for one more time.

Your hair exudes the smell of long broken pines.

Paint leaking onto the floor, paint dripping from your lashes.

You meld into the walls, you vanish in flashes.

-JW

The Gallows

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Your love is like a noose

And all the witches must be hanged.

The people who choose to look away

Are executioners too.

They can’t be saved.

If I only knew back then

The lengths your self-hate goes,

I would know when to leave.

But I was naïve

And it shows.

I heave from the pressure,

My nostrils shut closed.

Your soul’s a damn fixture,

The bruises you leave

Are your favourite ghosts.

Yet your love is still a noose,

No witch can be spared.

Some win and some lose.

But if you look the other way

You can’t be saved.

So hang me if you dare.

-JW

The Road

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Let’s follow the blood splattered in the glistening snow,

Let’s take the path neither of us ever wanted to go.

The branches shuffle over our heads like playing cards,

The claws of the cold are sharp, they’re pointier than darts.

But the path has no ending and we can’t catch a break.

The air leaving our lungs freezes the nearby lake.

Might as well be an underwater scene or the desert –

We ignore the view when the truth is unpleasant.

The roads will take us home, treat the open wounds,

Get us to the finish line before the bloodhounds

And keep our numb hands clear of all the past misdeeds.

One more step and they will let us live

As long as we bleed.

-JW

Lost

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Looking for my own ten commandments,

Preaching my own deadly sins.

Strikes, lines, crosses, repeated amendments.

Pulling out Band-Aids and pins.

Each border I traverse hits me in the chest,

It scorches the bubbling skin.

It’s a travesty – when I left my past to rest

I wrapped it in second-hand tin.

The narrative erases the last of my patience,

My innocence is wearing thin.

Greed and lust, two of reality’s best agents,

Become my next of kin.

I’m still seeking my own ten commandments,

Repeating my favorite sins.

Death wishes keep hiding in the finest of prints,

Tattooed with bloody pens.

-JW

Honour My Wishes

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Unremarkable, irrelevant, overly talked about but never quite acknowledged.

They let the spiteful paragraphs fly, my nightmares turn into a broken promise.

The tears freeze in the cold December air, they form perfect salty spheres.

Grainy pictures slide by as my consciousness morphs into a guilty plea no one hears.

Honour my wishes, I beg you, honour them,

Don’t listen to the fat they’re chewing.

The lighting is unavoidable, it holds the clouds up

With the strong winds brewing.

Unavoidable, facetious, overrated but never judged fairly enough to fail.

They write down my every mistake, then distribute the list by mail.

The fireworks start, make me lose my sight and my sense of direction.

My ears ring as the thought bubble above my brain dissolves into friction.

Honour my wishes, I beg you, honour them,

Don’t ever let my feet touch the ground.

The destruction is immanent, wait it out

Until a new storm is crowned.

-JW

Gusto

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Can’t get out of my bed, can’t help humming the melody,

The one you sang while I was drifting off to sleep.

Yet I hold on to my sizzling ego, set fire to the lying tarot.

Each night I make the grave mistake of standing in your shadow.

Can’t turn away, can’t think of a place that I’d rather be.

I’m twisting and turning, counting all the lost sheep.

But it wasn’t a surprise when you forgot, it was long expected.

I was born to be mistaken for a woman who can be neglected.

Should’ve built dream chateaus,

But now I’m polishing your gusto.

Yet I hold on to my sizzling ego, set fire to the lying tarot.

Each night I make the grave mistake of standing in your shadow.

-JW

Self-Destruction

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I thought I could freeze the sadness out of me,

I thought I could caffeinate it out or paint it over with glee.

I wished once I stopped shaking, I’d be free

But no amount of distraction could part the stormy sea.

I left the window open until my skin felt static.

I wished you could guide my senses, fussy and erratic,

And I truly hoped the enormous heavy feeling inside would slip under,

Almost like dying peacefully, almost like beating a thunder.

Just like other memories they’d drift away into a dream,

Yet we’re too gentle to open the void, too gentle to ever grow mean.

So I drift off to sleep in the freezing room one more time.

The night pours saltwater in my aching bruises,

It burns like lime.

-JW

#11 The Lonely Bones

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Dig, cut, wrap, clean, repeat. Another hole, another dead seed.

We’re hiding truths like normal people do, we plant what we need.

Dig, cut, wrap, clean, repeat. Push harder to cut off the feet.

Bury, smoothen, cover. Another body, another dead lover.

We’re escaping the destiny by hiding all that’s discovered.

Bury, smoothen, cover. We killed you and we killed your brother.

Sharpen, crush, growl some more. Another bruise, some shiny gore.

We’re tied in our count but who’s keeping a score?

Sharpen, crush, growl some more. Go faster to win the war.

Drink, celebrate, rest, cheer. Another pit of lonely bones sealed.

We’re gnarly inside and out, we’re the burnable breed.

Drink, celebrate, rest, cheer. Another pint to the terror we wield.

-JW