Tag: writing

Two Empty Hearses

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Nobody dared to save my life that silky moonlit night.

No one cared to check for a pulse, no medics in sight.

The body next to mine is bleeding out just as fast as me

And I would do anything to stop the pain

But we’re trapped in this fantasy.

Nobody saw when we ran out of oxygen and body heat,

No one told us to wait or to run, no one told us to bleed.

I hold the love of my life in my weak and bruised arms

And I would to anything to treat the pain

But we promised to do no harm.

Nobody noticed when we painted the sidewalk karmin red.

No one prayed where we trembled, where we sacrificed and bled.

They buried two empty hearses with a hundred made up hymns.

And I would to anything to ease your pain

But my tears can’t heal your broken limbs.

-JW

Down The Rabbit Hole

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The trajectory of our fall changed right in front of my eyes.

I tried to grasp the passing meadows and fields

But no surprise

We were out of blessing and shields.

The moon lays heavy on our chests and we fear the dark.

Our bags are dragging our souls to the ground,

Leaving a mark,

Letting the predators know we can be found.

The surfaces below are muddled, they’re awfully senseless.

Nothing to soften the inevitable collision.

Our eyes are defenceless.

They take in the blur, confuse it for a vision.

-JW

Looking For Exile

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A delay in my response, my brain’s on a break.

I pause all the sound, we’ve done take after take

Of this never-ending story.

And I’m tired to the bone, I can’t fake the laughs.

I’ve written three thousand broken paragraphs

About this love I hold before me.

When I see you, my forth wall turns into dust,

My head buzzes in neon from dawn until dusk –

And I am hardly sorry.

But the cameras are rolling, the crowd is electric.

The tension in your chest evaporates as I whisper

“The others also bore me.”

A delay in my response, my brain’s on a rise.

I pause all the sound. There’s only your eyes

Dictating this never-ending story.

-JW

Capture

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Photo by Francesca Zama from Pexels

I launch my teeth in your smooth right wrist,

Call it self-defense, but don’t call my thirst selfish.

Salty blood on my lips, they trickle down the neck.

You branded me evil for having some self-respect.

There’s nothing you hate more than disobedience.

You slap my face, I know you enjoy the experience.

The rope tightens around my waist and my ribs.

You slash my confidence like a fig.

I no longer hear the birds sing when I drift away.

The death licks its lips and picks up the tray.

-JW

Sleepless Desires

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Hot pink heels and a thermostat heart that guesses what she wants.

She’s into fuzzy things, casual disregard and nonchalance.

The car she drives is just as worn out as her second guesses.

You couldn’t tell her daughter is twenty by the way she dresses.

But she knows that nobody’s calling, she’s fully aware.

They grin at her sun-damaged skin and platinum blond hair.

The streets are calling her name and her sleepless desires.

Talk is cheap and her empathy isn’t for hire.

Yet she extends her palm towards the sun setting over city lights

As she takes a stranger’s hand disappearing into the neon night.

-JW

November

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Photo by Karol Wiśniewski from Pexels

You took my secrets against my best wishes,

You took them down the drain with you

Mixing my soul with dirty dishes.

I tied up the red flags, collected them all –

What a lovely sight, isn’t it?

Watching them finally fall.

You made a joke out of my darkest times

But I could never joke about you

Or your petty crimes.

And I tried torturing you the same but you yelled,

You claimed that you’re in pain

When it was my neck you held.

The cigarette smoke dissolves over your pity

As you take one last cynical look

At me leaving this sunken city.

-JW

August

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Your breath smells like salty sea, your skin – like cotton candy.

I took another lover before you cried over your first brandy.

A glass of liquor won’t seal the envelope filled with poor choices

And magic tingles my bones when you think you know

Where your voice is.

Your nose is filled with dust, your hair – entangled with seaweed.

I loved another man before you managed a single misdeed.

But that’s what you’re good at, being an act that no one defies,

Yet – we weren’t even done with our first kiss that night

When I wrote our goodbyes.

Your chin is split wide open, your ears are bleeding in waves.

I’m only imagining what it would feel to re-dig my graves.

But I hope that you’re sleeping tight and not overthinking.

Almost eight years have passed and I still can’t face it

Without crashing and sinking.

-JW

April

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The air sticks its hand out to grab both my lungs

But I flinch and hide them in meadows and trunks.

The petals surround me in a warm moon ritual

Yet I put my head down, escaping the ethereal.

Heaven’s gate in front of me but I can’t reach it.

My fantasy runs circles, please don’t you feed it.

Cherry blossoms form a swarm of soft dewy rays.

I look down and close my eyes through the haze.

My palms lift towards the unforgiving blues,

I hold my weapons near, trigger finger on the fuse.

Leaves shuffle all around, the scent lifts up my feet.

I collapse over the branches accepting the defeat.

-JW

February

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The cold stings my bare limbs, it punches my skin.

The sky is made from plastic, moon is made out of tin.

No matter how much I’m freezing, I still carry on.

If I surrender, my sanity’s going to be looked upon.

My left leg stuck in a cruel limbo, it spins violently.

Right cheek burning bright red, wailing like a banshee.

How can I ever leave this place, who would even dare?

I came to terms with the freezing weather and the stares.

But I still hear a voice, it’s trying to grab my attention.

It warms my numb fingers and clears the suspension.

I reach out to it once in a while, it swallows me slowly.

The roofs of the city reflect my shadow collapsing,

Yelling that thee must bow before me.

-JW

Part IV: After the heist

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We’re hiding in sketchy houses, digging through rusty mailboxes,

Burning bonfires indoors and only surviving through some proxies.

Her hair on my stomach, she’s counting what we’ve finally earned.

I’m watching with a knot in my stomach, I’m seeing she’s not concerned.

My fingertips pulsate on the skin of my lover, I’m burning alive.

An adrenaline rush captures me, take a knee or a shameful nosedive.

The roof of this shack we’re living in leans on my last sane bone,

The fridge is still empty, even after we’ve gotten enough for the crown.

But the green hair is gone, so are the goons,

Only a brown-haired girl in front of me,

A gun encrusted with runes.

And she wants the riches, not the love I offered.

I reach for the door leading to the river.

The bullet sprints as I topple.

-JW