Poetry / My Cross to Bear

The weight of the splintering perpendicular wood Shatters the disks, rips the chord, and pulls the stem. The matter unclogs and spills the juices on the floor. I fall forward and the skull shatters like crystal. Dive deep in the pool I’ve created. Look what my weakness made. It’s cliché, trite, empty, a void. I’ve made a hole. Where are the colors unseen? Where’s my power? Everywhere like a fog to be boiled by someone else’s laser. Only for a while lie to me. Get lost in my fog. Be confused mystified and bathe in it. These are the screams of a specter muffled, and terrified. He’s looking at his prize, his little pride, dispersed by the sun. Please let me move you. Let my darkness move you. Let the blood awe you. Let the emptiness enthrall you. Let yourselves reminisce at your own ideas. You bend to me. I’ve been bent and trampled and destroyed and mangled. Let me mangle, destroy, and trample you . I’m weak Please look at and love, and kill me. I am Jesus. Please, let me be Jesus. Lift me on the cross I dropped, and pin me to it with nails of gold. Place upon me a crown of broken glass. Impale me with a spear of dreams. Cast for my emperor’s clothes. Let me die without regret. I won’t be your savior. I will be your Idol, an Idol as transparent as the glass that crowns me, as frivolous as the nails the pin me, as empty as the dreams that impale me, and as cheap as the garments that once clothed me.

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