Tag: spring

Note #914

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Photo by Anna Shvets from Pexels

Trees by my window turn chartreuse, they have lungs to feed and souls to sting.

The birds return home with the highest of winds, bringing the first breath of spring.

My eyes feel like an anchor in this scene, they’re ruining the view with bright red fear.

The blood I shed for vile creatures keeps visiting at night, threatening to disappear.

And I worry – maybe I got out too late to ever pull myself back together again?

Maybe I truly played my last card, ceiled the faith, and lost myself as a friend?

The pound of flesh I offered them for free wasn’t an invitation to rob my skull empty –

But I thought once I left, we would be even, yet, I’m broken and they still have plenty.

So where is the fairness my ego promised? Where are the roaring melodies?

The life spins faster and faster around me but I no longer feel like its centrepiece.

And the trees get greener, the city gets louder, the sunlight numbs me to the bone.     

I pray each night to the gods I dethroned

That I still have the spite to never answer the phone.

-JW

The Fangs Of Spring

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Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva from Pexels

The first breath of spring pushes its fangs into the city.

It’s not a question of why, it’s a question of when it’ll hit me

That not a single blood cell of mine remembers your venom

And the gashes in my chest no longer open if you tear them.

Perhaps time heals all but pure spite cures in leaps –

No wonder tears dry faster when the rosy fog leaves.

I keep driving past the places where you made me overflow

And now they smell like gasoline, the warning sign of a foe.

It might seem foolish but I’ve been walking by your street

Hoping that I get a chance to bring you the desert heat

Just like you did, shamelessly thinking you’re being witty…

The first breath of spring pushes its fangs into the city.

-JW

When The Winter’s Over

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Photo by Evie Shaffer from Pexels

The spring is back in town

And my crowns are no longer made of wires.

Blossoms and moss grow on blood, crusty brown,

Spreading vaporized desires.

The leaves tickle slightly

As dazzling sweat trickle down the back.

You promised not to take my cries lightly

But the spring stole your tact.

My senses get attacked

With the vivid smell of primrose and tulip.

The chains around my wrists, once deep black,

Now clear and lucid.

The sun climbs in fast leaps

Over the tiresomely arrogant brick towers.

Its white light is a sweet, sweet release,

And I collapse in flowers.

-JW

April

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Photo by Scott Webb from Pexels

Whenever April comes around, I have this need to sleep by an open window.

The air is so heated and charged, I can’t brush it off. I need to feel the wind blow.

The fire in my bones is harsh to my body, I want the power to go out with a bang.

Whenever April comes around, another lover becomes a treat to my hungry fangs.

I’ve been dying of thirst for a cool spring breeze since I was bitterly seventeen.

No psychic wise enough, no fortune teller prosperous enough to crack my spleen –

But maybe a genie in the bottom of the bottle will tell another revolting story.

I wish I could stand up a little bit taller instead of being sorry.

We’re a dying breed, and we’re choking on antimony.

Whenever April comes, my insides throw a funeral – and I’m leading the ceremony.

-JW