sin city – The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright

They’re building a casino on the corner we first met.

What a cliché – greed replacing our spot for watching the sun set.

The shop where I bought you socks is closing down,

Maybe it’s too late to ask whether you frown

Before putting them on and going your separate way in our streets –

The town we once walked together is changing, no longer fitting our needs.

The café I told you the truth burned down a week ago, last Tuesday,

And without it the square resembles the doomsday

But only a tiny bit. The rest is plastic and still looks fine.

I’d assume you could still find a nice place there to take her and dine.

Ah, the reality bites harshly, yet the imagination tortures my pride –

What the hell happened? Why did I run? Why did you hide?

It’s not fair of me to put our past ahead of the future you’re planning.

However, I can’t rest in peace with all the verities you’re banning

From your new found realities. These past years have done enough damage –

Of course, would be ironic if we for once decided to salvage

Something that’s sacred and close. Can we even manage?

Loving you still is such a disadvantage.

Ravage. Baggage.

Nothing good ever comes out of two vanished souls trying to escape, to banish

Until we tarnish

When all we really needed was a bandage.

-JW

Crime infested holy cities filled with lovers gone mad out of satiety,

Hidden in sparkling sacred water, writing their penal codes of impropriety.

I’m too tame for this lonely town of looney tunes – I don’t have much hope in society.

Yet – I can’t make it alone, so please pardon my selfishness and compliancy.

Too long I’ve traveled these roads on my own, lost track of it a few mistresses ago.

I’ve never loved anyone that I could have but their ghosts still follow wherever I go.

It’s hard to carry those shadows down dusty fields or wily mountaintops though –

But there’s nothing more dangerous than taking your past for granted. So I carry it,

Through the ice and snow.

On weekends my brain takes me to a place I want to wake up in when I’m dead.

Sadly, it doesn’t make any sense – the sin cities I fled hold me by a phantom thread,

They pull me into the bright carousels of cheap whiskey kisses. The tap tastes like led.

When your temptations call for you, you pay for them in the skins you shed.

Otherwise, they might take your head.

-JW

Tag: sin city