Tag: series

Downwards

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Rolling down a stainless steel mountain made of doubt.

Connection’s kicking in, I’m changing wheels and routes.

Wavy hair falling in my distorted vision, hiding the focus.

Black satin dresses tangled around my ankles.

Each step I take is a bonus.

I might get killed or even buried alive by the author –

These fictional scenes are written to keep me bothered

But my senses keep getting butchered and gutted in the making.

The engine keeps pulsating while I try to escape,

Thoughts and heart racing.

Sunrise is kicking in over the frozen fields like a curse.

If I don’t make it, I hope they ordered a red-coloured hearse.

The faster I go, the more miserable these glass shoes make me feel.

Dragging against the ice and the petrified grass,

Rolling down a mountain of stainless steel.

-JW

Never Hers // Candy

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Saw her walking Sammy Davis Drive,

Black shirt and lighting in her gaze.

Her heels were broken, clock struck five.

She cursed the heat with a joke

About the human race.

The night consumed her with one bite,

Spat out the bones and fake, blue purse.

How do you cope when nothing’s right?

Another fantasy brought to life,

But it was never hers.

With each sunset she loses a fight.

The danger creeps over her while she sleeps.

She’s convinced – the neon will make her bright.

Yet again blood’s leaving her bruised cheeks.

The Mirage fades as the streets reek of freaks,

And she’s back on Sammy Davis Drive again.

Committing to nobody but the original sin.

Heels still broken, the clock strikes six

And she waves the middle finger to the moon

Before falling into the abyss.

-JW

The Interrogators

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The moonlight is pouring through windows, the coffee’s too weak.

A brand new Jane Doe’s sweeping the papers and scaring the streets.

“The Mermaid of Death”, “The Breathless Starlet”, “The Voiceless Angel”.

Even to the one’s keeping a distance, this case wasn’t a stranger.

The ocean was wavering peacefully, as if it didn’t feel the disgust.

Not even twenty years old, sunken in salty water, covered in jealousy dust.

Her pale and youthful complexion took the breath and the centre stage.

Detectives speculated that this wasn’t a mistake, it was an act of rage.

No other signs of an argument, just bruises all over her silent neck.

A ship passing by noticed the strange figure, they pulled her on deck.

Now she’s laying there, surrounded by people who will never understand

How a featherweight queen like this can die from a loving hand.

So we took him in the next day as he was speeding, yelling in pure agony.

Handsome but lacking the bravery to admit that his words are a blasphemy

To the God who watched over him while the heartbeats of a girl ran dry…

We took him in, four minutes and four seconds later he muttered a cry.

-JW

Bad Habit // Andy

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Her locks are golden when she passes me in the beach.

“Have I seen you around, or is this a bit of a reach?”

She smiles without joy and offers me her dying trust.

I swore I’d find her again. She seemed a bit fussed.

Her standards were loose, I’ve noticed her bad habits.

If I make sure I fit in enough, we both can wreak havoc.

Her boyfriend’s too soft for her taste and I make a joke –

She laughs in everlasting fear of becoming a trope.

The house she lives in has high windows and pale doors.

They hid the ladder one night, they even locked the drawers.

I tried to be cautious, hoping she understood the pressure

Of getting to know a person and leaving an impression.

Her guard’s coming down, I can almost look through her soul.

A few more light touches and I swear, I can make this girl whole.

Her locks smell of ocean when she confides in me one evening.

“Do you mind seeing me around, even if you’re not the one

That I’ve been seeking?”

***

Her guilty gaze angers me, her kisses are stone cold sober.

I don’t recall what happened next, can’t remember what I told her

But she rushed away, dread in her gate. I didn’t follow.

The silence snapped me as the wavering ocean wallowed.

I had nothing to do with her tragic end, she made me alive.

Swear to God, I’m not the jealous type, I never took her out for that drive.

Wish I could help with more detail but I’m afraid I must leave.

The night is calling my name. Don’t you judge the way I grieve.

-JW

Your Last Chance // Natalie

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You can drive faster but you can’t run over the guilt.

The trust we built turned into lust, easily killed

By another boy seeing loyalty as the perfect gilt

Despite bodies decomposing, pale and well chilled.

You can scream louder but you can’t avoid the noise.

Can’t hear the radio or your mother’s tired voice.

I knew you’ve tried to drown this pain with the boys.

Your prey becomes the hunter that only love destroys.

There’s my humming in your head that will never leave,

A sharp, moonlit fantasy of how you’ll never be free.

You promised the night you pulled me too close to heave

That you’ll treat her better than me.

But then you saw Jenny

And forgot about poor Natalie.

Both are now haunting you in your sleep.

-JW

Breathtaking // Jen

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Photo by Belle Co from Pexels

The TV’s too loud and the candles burn too faintly.

I’ll go with you if you’re ready to mouth “just take me”.

Everything’s wrong since I’ve been seeing you less.

I daydream about giving you another shot

In a short, yellow dress.

The palm of my hand rests on your shoulders with ease.

Road passes by as your wild eyes are fixed on my knees.

There’s a secret in the air and I’ve never seen you like this,

And you take one long look at my face

When I lean in for a kiss.

The midnight is lit by thousands of celestial chandeliers.

We walk towards the waves as I wipe away my tears.

I grab your hand with a smile and you hold my neck,

And you don’t let go until you’re convinced that

You’ve taken my breath.

You tie a blanket around my waist with shaking palms.

In your head – a billion excuses chanting: “We meant no harm!”

As my limp body leaves the promenade, you’re pouring sweat.

Then – just silence and the engine of your car

Humming the song of regret.

-JW

A Beautiful Day To Die

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The sun is playing on bare skinned people passing by, not reaching me yet.

I’ve become a mirror to the world’s worst battle cries, the symbol of debt.

Would be a lie if I claimed I’d rather touch the rays instead of reflecting –

It’s a beautiful day to die from overdosing on medals I’ve been collecting.

Never thought of myself as a warrior, cleaning up foreign messes, not my own,

Making sure as a foreigner I hide my own truths and give my illness a loan

To take out later, when I’m crumbling in the concrete walls of another city

Where windows are larger than life and privacy means you must be guilty.

All these second-hand “thank you” notes I’ve gathered now don’t mean a thing –

Loneliness carries itself just royally well until it finds a place to sting.

Then you’re down with the venom tearing your vision apart, installing mirrors.

You feel like it’s a beautiful day to die if you get to see the world any clearer.

But that was then – I continue to walk the streets with my growing reflective hopes.

I’ve become the mirror to the world’s battle cries but I’m no longer a ghost.

***

I shut the neon gates to my city.

The rebels are gone with the winds of fog colored in pity.

The small picture’s gone, replaced with only this memory

Of how I treated the streets I created as an enemy

I know I can’t reach my younger self but I’ll try through this revery:

Love, I hope you remember me.

-JW

Stolen Mirrors

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White bedroom walls, all matte,

not a reflection in sight.

She was willing to die for that,

not for being right.

Sun turned up to the brightest,

not some neon light.

The words in her head – not biased,

not always ready to bite.

No mirrors testing her worth,

not a noise in the realm.

Her body wasn’t the hearth

and she took over the helm.

“Rest, dear, you’ve been hurt,”

She whispered, still overwhelmed.

“Years spent in standards so absurd,

Might as well live with just walls

And skip replacing the doorbell,

Even if you’re compelled.”

She has taken over the helm.

-JW

Before I Wake

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I remember how I fell for two kind words spoken in a greyish dawn.

No color anywhere but in your lips, you fit in like the blindest pawn.

I guided your intentions downhill with my unfillable desires, seeking redemption.

Not a single hair moved on your chest when I called you my emancipation.

“Playing chess is unfair if your opponent has never learned to hold the rhythm

But you speed up your tango because it takes two to slay the monster with him.”

So I stay in the game I play with myself whenever I lose the colors,

Whenever I choose myself over somebody I suffocated within the covers.

No one will ever learn the truth, I saved the only copy on my conscience.

The devil has a duplicate key but the road to hell is paved with God’s sins

Masked as good intentions.

-JW

Flamethrowers And Butterflies

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My hands tied behind my back, eyes covered with two dark patches.

Sounds are slipping by me in circles, lights are dancing in flashes.

Your hand in mine was the last touch I asked for, what I wanted.

When they took the blindfolds off, I took your red cheeks for granted.

Then they shut the sun off once again and chained me to a neon cross,

Took a flamethrower to the first butterflies, burned them with the fresh moss.

Concrete squares as far as I can sense in my blind disbelief, or further.

My feet bleeding from their coffin nails, but this isn’t a murder.

This is my own mind throwing itself in a free fall, chanting “salvation”.

I’m pulling all the magician’s tricks to get back into narration.

The lock is too heavy and my wrists are too loud to play it by ear.

My hands tied behind my back, eyes covered

But I manage to let out a single tear.

-JW