Desolate ElectriCITY

Image by Mike Olbinski

Desolate ElectriCITY
JCD Kerwin

i’m electric,
passing city lights
while they glow, and
reflect the burning
in my soul.

i feel the lightning storm
of Heaven in
the blink of your eye.

i can’t tell if
i’ve given
up my legs for wings.
the buildings flash by
like Lego blocks
from memories.

these are the Blues
of another kind,
another place,
the whispers of
some forgotten face.

it is summer, but,
despite the sun,
all i feel
is ice.
hold me while
I fade,
sparking in the night.

(Sept. 2014)

Miss You ForthisEver

I have to stop feeling guilty for writing…even when the product turns out like shit.

Miss You ForthisEver
JCD Kerwin

Tell me when it’s over,
when all the parties end
and no one’s left around.

Lift the mask
so I can see
the way
the moon reflects your soul.

I’ve been sleeping,
dream-walking,
at warp-speed for
as long as I can remember.

I wish stars did shine
like diamonds.

Tell me when it’s over;
just tell me when I’ve got
your lightning
in my arms.

(Aug. 2014)

Black Butterflies

Le Papillon Noir
JCD Kerwin

I want to cake my eyes in eyeliner
and have it smudge black blots
into my retinas.

I want to drink battery acid,
exhale fire, and
run flat-out for miles
before I vaporize.

I want to make my fingertips
speed like bikers
across a guitar’s neck
and have the world
scream my name
like I’m fucking its brain.

I want people to call me god
when I’m licking my lips
and shouting rhymes
into a microphone
with my eyes closed.

I want to be
a psychotic entertainer,
making words out of fire
like I’m a mastermind
hyped up on amphetamines
and painkillers.

I want to paint naked
at midnights,
abdominal muscles throbbing
with each brush-stroke,
and acrylics dripping
down to my toes.

I want people to gaze
at my masterpiece
and see me,
reflected like lighting
in glass clouds.

I want to be Oblivion
in thunderstorms
and create magic
with my heartbeats.

I want to fly
like butterflies
when they’re getting
ready to die:
headstrong and determined
to leave a mark
before they’re gone.

I want to be.
Want to be.
Want to be.
Your fucking papillon.

July, 2011