The Crucifixion

There is a rotting of a soul
I’m the people’s King yet to be enstooled.
I tried to crucify my own soul,
But nailing the unseen is for the confused.
Friends think it will be a fraud for me not to make heaven,
Mama thinks if God doesn’t deliver me soon
the devil will have my name tattooed on the lining of his tongue.
My mind is in every dumpster across the city,
In the pit of the soot used in making darkness,
And in the bright light that blinds your vision.
I want to unlearn this world and start anew.
I keep finding fresh wounds in places I thought had healed
And bruises in places I didn’t know existed.
You said “I love you” as compensation
for all the ways you failed to love me.
I said “I love you” as an antidote to raise the almost dead.
I have been forgetting names of everything;
Names of old school mates and new faces,
Names of places no matter how many times I visit,
Names of drugs that take 40 days to complete.
But I cannot seem to forget the name
of that which is yet to exist.
My sanity is in knowing I too am mad.
When I stare at myself in the mirror,
It is the brutal truth of my nakedness that stares back at me
I have started looking for warmth outside of myself;
I wave at strangers just to see if they will smile.
I tried to crucify my own soul,
Nailing the unseen could only be done by the confused.

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