Another Disaster in Time

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I’ve been thinking a lot about loyalty lately and coming to terms with the fact

That the one bullet I cannot escape is being true to myself.

No, I’m not an act.

Many say I lack vision, others claim I come off as abrasive, lacking basic tact,

But who really hears their whispers when life and I, we signed this secret pact.

It was a summer day and my chest was burning – it was bursting lies, spitting pain:

I’m lying on the floor, counting voices, waiting for someone else to take the blame.

My hand reaches for the last sip of poisoned wine.

Someone pulls the emergency brakes on the train.

I sit up, wide-eyed in disbelief and I swear – someone muttered my name.

Knowing everything I’ve learned now I’d say it was my consciousness calling me home.

Yet – that feeling wasn’t present, it felt like my future has dialed the crisis phone.

It struck me that as long as I got myself in this fidgety world, I’m not completely unknown.

So I’ve been thinking a lot about loyalty lately and how without it you’re utterly alone.

An unmarked graveyard representing another disaster in time,

And, not to sound cynical, nothing’s blanker than a penniless crime.

So I’m pulling it all together, drawing a full circle – not betting a dime.

I must win the loyalty back. Be it a silent prayer or a pantomime.

-JW

Little Lies

Photo by Louis from Pexels

They lied when they said that people need water to live.

I’ve been driving for 6 hours and this road has no give.

I’m tired of looking over my shoulder, chasing the sun,

When there’s nothing I need more than someone saying –

You don’t have to run.

They lied when they said that people need air to survive.

I’ve been suffocating for a decade, lacking a peace of mind.

Riding down the roads that are never-ending feels like ice skating

On the thinnest of surfaces – sometimes delightful, yet what I really miss

Is taking a breath that’s invigorating.

They lied when they said that people need love to be alive.

I’ve never once felt deader than whilst I was falling. Let me take five.

Hunting my dreadful past means more dire futures are in the making

But I’m immune to seeing paths less self-destructive as pain does the trick

Of keeping me from ever truly waking.

-JW